


A Golden Egg

by thehousethatfloats



Series: Hearts of Gold [4]
Category: Disney Duck Universe, Disney Ducks (Comics), DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), The Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dawson’s a wayward child, Drama, F/M, Family, Gen, McDuck family feelz, Momma Goldie, Papa Scrooge, Scroldie baby, Scroldie grandkid, married Scroldie, now she’s gonna have her own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2019-11-14 12:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18052373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehousethatfloats/pseuds/thehousethatfloats
Summary: Goldie gets a phone call.A little story about mothers and daughters, from the Alternate Universe established in The Last McDuck.Can be read as a stand alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moon_opals](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_opals/gifts).



> You can blame Moonie for this one. This headcanon from the Dawson-verse got a little out of control and now here we are.
> 
> (Set in the alternate universe established in The Last McDuck. You know, before I killed everyone horribly.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GORGEOUS cover art by the precious flower, Domii (Indomiiac on AO3, @Domiinon on Tumblr)

 

 

Scrooge was still at the office when she called. Goldie almost didn’t bother to answer it, but when she did, her world stopped turning just for a moment.

‘...Mom?’ The voice was small, and it was shaking. It sounded like it was coming from a million miles away.

Goldie gripped the phone tightly in her hand. It had been months since her last letter. Even longer since she’d actually called.

‘Dawson? Is that you?’ She said, urgently. ‘Where are you?’

‘I’m... I’m not sure. A hospital somewhere.’

‘WHAT?’ Goldie’s heart stopped for a second. The breath in her lungs froze, and clung to her ribs like ice. Her baby was in trouble, and she didn’t know where she was.

‘I’m okay.’ Dawson assured her, quickly. ‘Well, I mean... I’m not hurt.’

‘Sweetheart, please. You’re going to put your mother in the hospital in a minute if you don’t give me a little more context. You need to tell me where you are.’

Dawson sighed, and there was a moment of rustling as she managed to dig out some clue to her location. ‘I’m... Spoonerville. I’m in Spoonerville.’ Goldie felt a rush of relief - she was in Calisota at least. ‘I just... will you come get me? Please?’ She paused, and Goldie could tell there was another request coming. She waited, patiently. ‘And... could you not tell Daddy?’ And there it was.

Goldie’s eyes screwed shut, and she took a moment to rub at the crease between her brows, trying to stave off the impending headache that she knew was imminent.

‘Dawson, are you in some kind of trouble?’ She asked, already knowing the answer. ‘The kind of trouble you don’t want your dad to know about?’

Dawson didn’t say anything, but Goldie could hear her sniffling down the line. Her insides twisted at the thought of her daughter, huddled over a payphone in that crap hole of a town, crying.

‘Sweetheart, are you... I mean, did you...’ Goldie trailed off, unable to find the words to ask the question.

‘Yes,’ Dawson whispered. Goldie’s heart sank. ‘I’m sorry, I just didn’t know who else to call. I’m on my own and I don’t know what to do and... Mom, I’m freaking out.’

Goldie’s eyes filled with tears that she wiped away quickly. She was already mapping out the route to Spoonerville in her head. If she went on her bike it’d be quicker but... that might not be the most practical thing. Not if Dawson wasn’t the only passenger she’d be bringing back.

Dawson sniffled again, and let out a sob she could no longer keep in. ‘Mommy?’

‘I’m coming, baby,’ Goldie assured her. ‘You stay right where you are. I’m coming to get you and I’m bringing you home.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Dawson-verse McDuck fun (and by fun I mean ANGST)
> 
> Goldie is a GOOD MOM™️ who is just TRYING HER BEST.

Spoonerville was a good four hours from Duckburg, even at the speed Goldie drove. She ran seven red lights, and outran two police cars on the way, and eventually the street signs began to change and the faces around her changed with them. There weren’t many ducks in Spoonerville.

As such, once she arrived it didn’t take long for her to locate her wayward daughter, hovering awkwardly in the hallway of the hospital, her eyes darting between the clock on the wall and the watch on her wrist, as though she didn’t trust just one of them not to try to lie to her.

Goldie took in the sight of her little girl, relishing the moment before she was spotted herself. Dawson’s white blonde hair was laden with sad looking flowers, and it fell long and wavy all the way down past her elbows, so long it almost reached the feathers of her tail. The back still stuck up in its signature McDuck tuft, and Goldie couldn’t help but smile at that. Her eyes were red rimmed, and she looked thinner than the last Goldie had seen her, save for the telltale paunch around her middle that hadn’t been there before.

Swallowing heavily and steeling herself for a confrontation, Goldie finally pushed open the door and entered, all eyes turning to her as she did so, as they tended to do whenever she walked into a room. She ignored them, focussing only on her lost McDuck.

‘Dawson?’

The girl’s head shot up, and the moment her eyes landed on her mother, they filled with tears. She looked exhausted.

‘Mom?’

‘Oh, thank god.’ Goldie breathed, pushing past the line of people waiting at the reception desk to get to her. ‘Come here, let me see you. Sweetheart, you look terrible.’

Dawson cringed. ‘Oh, thanks Mom.’

Goldie rearranged her features into something vaguely apologetic. She’d gotten good at faking that over the years. ‘No, I mean... well, look at you. You look like you’ve been living in your car!’

‘It wasn’t a car, it was a... a mobile home.’ Dawson corrected her.

Goldie froze, and narrowed her eyes at her daughter. ‘Dawson. Have you been living in that damn flower power van this whole time?’

‘Mom, please.’ Dawson glanced over her shoulder at the gathering crowd, who had recognised the formidable Goldie McDuck the moment she walked in.

‘Are you on drugs?’ Goldie asked, suddenly. Dawson’s eyes flew wide and her jaw dropped.

‘ _Mom!_ ’ She flushed bright red.

‘Well, are you?’

‘Not right at this minute, no.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Goldie demanded.

‘It’s the sixties Mother, everyone takes drugs!’ Dawson rolled her eyes just like she had when she was a young teenager, and it riled Goldie up just as it had back then.

‘Well, I don’t!’ She snapped.

Dawson just groaned. ‘No, you just steal anything that isn’t nailed down, you’re wanted in half a dozen countries across the globe not to mention countless demon dimensions, but god forbid you ever do something so illegal as smoke pot. That’s just going too damn far!’

They faced off opposite each other, eyes flashing and teeth bared. But then Goldie could clearly see the redness around her daughter’s eyes, and the tear tracks down her cheeks. And so she summoned every inch of her will power and stood down.

And that’s when she saw the egg.

It was clear the Spoonerville general hospital wasn’t used to duck deliveries. They didn’t even have a proper bassinest, the poor thing was just sat in a basket. And Dawson had absolutely no idea what to do with it.

‘Of all the stupid... I mean, _honestly_.’ Goldie grumbled, looking around for someone who might know what they were doing. Dawson bristled defensively, mistakenly thinking her mother’s ire was aimed at her.

‘Mom please, don’t lecture me here. I can’t take it right now...’

‘What?’ Goldie looked back at her daughter, having almost forgotten she was there. And then she saw the way she was standing desperately next to her unexpected egg, in a crowded hospital full of people who had no idea what to do with her, aside from wonder what mess single mother had gotten herself into to have had to lay her egg in Spoonerville. Dawson looked so miserable and broken, Goldie was ready to smack whoever had made her daughter feel like that right in the face. And then she realised she’d done it herself. Her face softened, just for a moment.

‘I’m not lecturing you - well, not yet.’ Goldie assured her. ‘I’m just looking for who I need to yell at for putting your unhatched baby in a damn picnic basket.’ Just at that moment, an unsuspecting intern chose that moment to walk past. Goldie seized him roughly by the collar. ‘You, go and get some warm blankets and two - no, three hot water bottles.’ She directed.

The intern floundered, sputtering objections and something about it not being his job to collect such things, perhaps if she asked a nurse...

Goldie saw red, and grabbed his collar with both hands, shaking the poor lad firmly.

‘Listen kid, if you aren’t back here with everything I asked for in the next five minutes then I’m pulling every last bit of funding McDuck Enterprises is putting into this hospital, and when they ask me why I’m giving them your name...’ she glanced at his tag. ‘...Kevin.’

‘Alright, alright - no need to do anything rash. I’ll be right back!’

The terrified intern balked at the fire flashing in Goldie’s eyes and scurried off into the hospital set on finding all the items she had listed.

‘Is Daddy really funding this place?’ Dawson sniffled, watching him go. Goldie shrugged.

‘If you look close enough, you’ll find your father lurking somewhere in the books of pretty much everywhere. I have no idea if he puts any money into this hospital, but he at least supplies the water and electric. I could do some damage if I wanted to.’

There was silence for a moment, as the two ducks stood side by side, the egg shaped elephant in the room sat between them in its sad little basket.

‘Thanks for coming,’ Dawson said eventually, looking anywhere but at her mother. ‘I didn’t know if you really would.’

Goldie closed her eyes briefly and took a breath. The fact that Dawson could even consider that she might not have come to her rescue in this situation was like a kick in the gut. She’d been gone for two years, but Goldie felt like she’d lost her a lifetime ago.

Kevin the intern returned then with an arm full of blankets and the hot water bottles balanced on top. He just stood there, desperately glancing between Goldie and Dawson, until Goldie rolled her eyes and stepped in.

She reached into the basket and scooped up the egg, cradling it in her arms with an ease Dawson was surprised by. For some reason she’d never imagined her mother holding an egg like that, like she saw other women do. She never imagined her mother doing anything a mother was actually supposed to do.

‘Here, hold this a second,’ Goldie said, passing the egg carefully to Dawson and showing her how to hold it, nestled in the crook of her arm. Dawson just stood there, dumbly, while Goldie picked up the basket and turned it upside down, dumping the meagre stuffing on the floor before setting it back down and taking the blankets from Kevin. Quickly and deftly, she lined the basket with them, wedging in a hot water bottle every so often, until she’d created a cozy cocoon of warmth for the newly laid egg to sit snugly in.

‘That’s better,’ she said, standing back and admiring her work proudly. Dawson just stared. She’d never seen her mother do something so practical that didn’t result in her getting treasure. Suddenly she felt Goldie’s elbow digging into her ribs and she finally looked up and met her eye. ‘Well, go on, pop her in there. She’ll be all snug and warm now, like she’s supposed to be.’

‘She?’ Dawson repeated, as she did what she was told and carefully slipped the egg into the soft, warm haven Goldie had constructed. ‘You think it’s going to be a girl?’

‘Innocent until proven guilty,’ Goldie chuckled. She bent down to pick up the basket, and then promptly handed it to the intern who still stood uselessly at their side. ‘Right, come along then Kevin. Car’s out front.’

‘Uh - I’m not really supposed to... Uh...’ but Kevin faltered when Goldie turned her glare upon him and without further ado he promptly nodded and followed the McDucks outside, carrying their precious luggage like a hotel porter. When he reached the car - which was, to Dawson’s dismay, the Bentley - Goldie opened the front passenger door and gestured for him to place the basket carefully inside. Goldie tipped him, and sent him on his way.

Dawson hovered awkwardly while Goldie opened the back passenger door for her.

‘What’s wrong?’ Goldie asked.

‘It’s just... are you sure it’s okay in the front?’ Dawson said, hesitantly. ‘Don’t I need to... I don’t know... like, sit on it or something?’ 

Goldie couldn’t help but laugh. ‘What is this, 1869? No one sits on eggs any more.’

‘Well how am I supposed to know?’ Dawson flushed bright red. In that moment, Goldie really saw her daughter. It was like she hadn’t aged at all. She was still the clueless sixteen year old, fighting with her parents about things she didn’t understand. Only now she was nineteen, and about to be a parent herself. The whole thing was a complete mess.

‘You’re not.’ Goldie said at last, her shoulders sagging. ‘You’re too young for this. You know that right? You know this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, and it’s going to change the course of your entire life?’

‘Yes. Obviously.’ Dawson averted her eyes.

‘Alright then. I just needed to make sure.’

‘I don’t know what to do.’ Dawson admitted in a whisper. Goldie’s eyes softened.

‘I know you don’t.’ She said, almost reaching out to take her daughter’s hand, then thinking the better of it. ‘It’s okay, that’s why I’m here. And right now, you’re going to get comfy in that back seat and rest while I keep your new little McDuck company on the drive back to Duckburg. We’re going to go home to the mansion, get some sleep, and in the morning we’ll sit down and talk about all this.’

‘What about Daddy...’ Dawson trailed off, looking just about as miserable as Goldie had ever seen her.

‘You leave your father to me.’ Goldie said, certainly.

‘But...’

‘In the eyes of Scrooge McDuck, you, my girl, can do no wrong. It’s incredibly infuriating. You could steal the Crown Jewels from the Tower of London and he’d stick a picture of you wearing them on the fridge and tell everyone all about it. If I did it, he’d sulk for a week.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t steal the Crown Jewels in the first place so it’s kind of a moot point.’

Goldie sighed, shaking her head. ‘No, you wouldn’t. And there in lies the rub.’ Sometimes Goldie did wonder if she’d brought the right egg home from the hospital when it came Dawson. She was so foreign to both of her parents sometimes - the way she clashed with Scrooge about his ridiculous wealth, or fought with Goldie over her questionable morals. But then she’d toss her hair a certain way and it was like looking in a mirror, or she’d wrinkle her beak and crinkle her brow, and Goldie found herself looking right at her husband. It was spooky.

She didn’t look like either of them now. She looked like a tired, broken, scared new mother, with an unexpected egg in a basket and no idea what to do about it. Hell, she had to have been desperate if her grand plan had been to call the one woman she never, under any circumstances, would rely on for anything.

Goldie’s heart wrenched as she saw fat tears well in her daughter’s eyes and roll silently down her cheeks. So she threw caution to the wind and closed then passenger door, then stepped closer to Dawson, resting her hands gently on her shaking shoulders.

‘Dawson, sweetheart, it’s going to be alright.’ She said, squeezing her arms reassuringly. ‘I promise.’

At last, Dawson looked up into her mother’s eyes, and the fear and sorrow Goldie saw reflected back at her was almost too much to bear.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ she confessed again. ‘I’m going to do it all wrong.’

‘We all do it wrong,’ Goldie said, reaching up to brush the tears from her daughter’s face. ‘But it’s okay. You’ll figure it out. And we’ll be here to help you while you do.’

Dawson nodded, a hint of a smile beginning to break through.

‘Dawson,’ Goldie started, suddenly grinning widely.

‘What?’ She asked, confused.

Goldie didn’t stop grinning. ‘You’re going to have a baby. A little duckling, all of your own, that you can mess up almost as badly as I did.’

Dawson let out a brief snort of laughter, her eyes darting to the egg sat cozily in the front seat.

‘I mean, the bar is set pretty high,’ she joked, awkwardly.

‘Yeah, it is.’ Goldie agreed, and then pulled Dawson in for a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter for the first time in what felt like years - and for the first time in even longer, her daughter hugged her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are SO COMPLICATED and I LOVE THEM. 
> 
> I went off on one here about the whole egg laying/hatching process and I have no idea if this stuff has any rules in canon, but I just made them up. I’m particularly proud of ‘bassinest’. Just saying.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn’t go where I thought it was going to, but I’m really happy with where it ended up. 
> 
> Scroldie feelz lie ahead! 
> 
> Trigger warning for Goldie’s filthy mouth. I love her.

Goldie woke the next morning to familiar arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. As her eyes blinked open, she found herself staring blearily into the sleepy eyes of her husband.

‘Good morning, beautiful,’ he murmured, nuzzling her mane of golden hair with his beak. ‘I missed you last night.’ Goldie chuckled when his breath tickled her neck as he spoke, and when she started to feel his dexterous fingers making their way south, her brain caught up with what was happening and the events of the previous night came back to her with a bang.

She reached down and wrapped a hand around his wrist, stilling his roaming digits.

‘Scrooge, I need to tell you something.’ She said, calmly.

Scrooge frowned. ‘What is it?’

‘Don’t freak out. Promise me.’ Goldie placed her hands on either side of his face, her fingers threading through his tufty whiskers.

Scrooge’s eyes grew somewhat fearful, and he steeled himself for what was to come. ‘I’ll promise nothing of the sort.’ He said. ‘Goldie, tell me what’s wrong.’

Goldie closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. There was nothing else for it.

‘Dawson’s home.’

Scrooge froze. ‘What? What happened? Is she okay? When did this happen?’

‘Last night - and she’s fine.’ Goldie assured him, before continuing. ‘But she... didn’t come back alone.’

Scrooge groaned.

‘Oh no. Who is he?’

‘I have no idea.’ Goldie shrugged. ‘Honestly, I doubt she knows either. But it isn’t the father she’s brought back with her.’

‘The father?’ Scrooge looked confused for a moment, then his brain caught up and his face flushed red and his eyes bulged. ‘You mean...?’

Goldie nodded. ‘You’re going to be a Grandpa, Moneybags.’

She waited for her words to land, unsure really of what was going to happen next. She knew Scrooge so well, when they were adventuring she could usually guess what he was going to do in a situation better than she could herself. But this wasn’t about gold. When it came to their most precious treasure, their daughter, she never really knew how things were going to go. 

It seemed that this time, they were going to go badly.

Scrooge threw back the covers and leapt out of bed, his fists balled at his side.

‘Of all the idiotic - _stupid_ \- where is she?’

‘She’s in her room. And she’s still asleep, I hope, so keep your damn voice down.’ Goldie hissed, wincing as his voice boomed and his footsteps seemed to echo loud enough to shake the whole house.

But Scrooge seemed to pay her no heed.

‘She has to tell us who did this to her. I’ll find the scoundrel. I’ll kill him.’

Goldie fought not to roll her eyes. ‘It takes two to tango, Scrooge.’ She reminded him, carefully. ‘Dawson’s a big girl, and she made a mistake. Yelling about it isn’t going to change anything.’

‘Do you know that? Did she tell you that?’ Scrooge demanded.

‘What are you talking about?’ Goldie rubbed at her temples. It was too early for this.

‘How do you know she made the mistake? How do you know some monster didn’t do this to her against her will?’

Goldie considered. She and Dawson hadn’t spoken much on the drive home. Mostly Dawson had slept, and Goldie had turned up the heating to keep their little passenger cosy and warm. But even with their differences, Goldie knew her daughter.

‘We didn’t talk about it.’ She admitted. ‘But I don’t think that’s what happened, Scrooge.’

‘But you don’t know.’ Scrooge insisted. ‘It could have been.’

‘Is that better?’ Goldie asked, baffled for a moment by his fixation.

‘It’s an explanation.’ Scrooge reasoned. Goldie felt for a second like she’d been slapped. And then she wanted to slap him.

‘Sorry, are you saying you’d rather your daughter had been taken advantage of, rather than that she just had some good old fashioned consensual sex?’ Goldie’s eyes flashed dangerously. Scrooge’s brain seemed to catch up with his beak. 

‘Of course that’s not what I’m saying!’ He assured her, and himself, quickly.

‘Are you really that angry about this?’ Goldie asked. ‘You love kids. Your whole life has been leading toward being a Grandpa - you can finally justify being a crotchety old man with a secret hidden heart of gold, which, frankly, you have been since the day I met you.’

‘She’s too young.’ Scrooge said, shaking his head. ‘She’s far too young for _this_.’

‘She’s nineteen years old.’ Goldie said. ‘She’s been living in a van for the past two years, doing god knows what with god knowns whom, drinking and taking drugs and making psychedelic daisy chains, and it’s the egg you have a problem with?’

‘It’s not the egg!’ Scrooge flushed again, and Goldie couldn’t help it. This time she did roll her eyes.

‘Of course it’s not the egg. It’s what came _before_ the egg.’ She said, knowingly.

‘Don’t.’ Scrooge begged, a hand over his eyes. ‘Please. I don’t want that in my head.’

‘Scroogey, sweetie, this time yesterday morning I had your dick in my mouth so you’ll excuse me for not realising you’re secretly a prude.’

If it was possible, Scrooge turned redder still. ‘That’s different, we’re married.’ He mumbled, awkwardly. Goldie felt a fluttering behind her ribs. Even to this day, her grumpy old miser couldn’t shake his old fashioned bashfulness outside of the actual act itself. It was ridiculously adorable, if somewhat irritating.

‘We weren’t married when you made angry, passionate love to me up against a wall in a cabin in White Agony Creek.’ She said, slyly.

‘Yes - but we weren’t teenagers!’ He spluttered.

‘Scrooge, I hate to break it to you, but you were something of a late bloomer. Teenagers having sex is not a new thing.’

‘But it’s _Dawson_.’ Scrooge said, coming back to the bed and taking his wife’s hands in his.

‘I know.’ Goldie said, quietly.

‘She’s just a wee bairn herself.’ Scrooge despaired. 

‘She’s not, she’s an adult.’ Goldie correctly, firmly. ‘But I know what you mean. It doesn’t change anything though, and in a couple of months there’s going to be a new little McDuck in our lives.’

‘You can’t be happy about this?’ Scrooge asked, disbelievingly. He dropped her hands suddenly, stepping away from the bed again.

‘Well, obviously it isn’t ideal but it’s happened, so I’m not going to get mad about it.’ Goldie reasoned.

Scrooge scoffed. ‘Well, that makes a change.’

‘Excuse me?’ Goldie’s eyes narrowed.

‘You getting mad at Dawson is what got her into this mess! If she hadn’t left home, this never would have happened!’ Scrooge declared, his anger raging anew.

‘Oh so this is my fault?’ Goldie bristled. ‘I’m the reason she ran away? Are you forgetting the part where she openly rejected you and your fortune and everything you’d ever worked for, and you told her if she didn’t like your money then you ought to stop wasting it on keeping a roof over her head?’

‘One fight in seventeen years doesn’t equal the hundreds you had!’ Scrooge argued.

‘It’s a distribution thing. I mean, she hated me, but-’

Scrooge cut her off. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, she never hated you.’

Goldie laughed, bitterly, and shook her head. ‘Oh, she hated me Scrooge. Daughters have to hate their mothers, it’s a right of passage. But when her precious _Daddy_ let her down, the one who had always taken her side for all those years, no matter how much of an asshole she was being, that pushed her over the edge. That was when we lost her.’

‘I don’t have to listen to this.’ Scrooge said, making to leave the room. Goldie scrambled out of bed and intercepted him.

‘Yes you do.’ She snapped, blocking his path to the door and daring him to try to get past her. ‘You don’t get to do this any more, this isn’t the damn Klondike, you don’t get to go hide in your wood bin and pretend this isn’t happening. We have to deal with this.’

‘This is not my fault.’ Scrooge’s voice raised again and Goldie glanced over her shoulder, wincing at the thought of Dawson hearing any of this. She hoped to help she was tired enough to sleep through it.

‘I’m not saying it’s your fault!’ She hissed, trying to take his arms and calm him down, but he just shook her off. ‘But you don’t get to play the innocent party either here Scrooge. You don’t get to blame me. We both fucked her up, and now we’ve got to help her deal with the consequences.’

But Scrooge wasn’t listening. And so Goldie did the only thing she knew was guaranteed to shut him up.

She kissed him. Hard.

For the briefest of moments, he tried to push her away. But when her hands rose up to cradle his face and he felt them shaking, his resolve melted and he knew then she was just as panicked as her. She was just hiding it better. He laid his own hands over hers, his thumbs rubbing gently back and forth, soothingly. When Goldie finally pulled back, their eyes met and finally, the fire seemed to have lessened in Scrooge’s.

‘Scrooge... our baby’s in trouble.’ Goldie whispered. ‘She’s scared, and damnit, so am I. I’m trying really hard here, but I can’t do this without you.’

Scrooge pulled her close and kissed her again, softer and sweeter than the kiss she had initiated, his fingers threading into her hair. The softness of her golden locks always managed to anchor him to sense, even the lingering smell of her cherry blossom shampoo helped to calm him. Goldie’s own hands fell to his shoulders, and as he deepened the kiss she let her wrists cross behind his neck so she could pull him closer still. She felt the wetness of his angry tears mingling with her own.

Finally, Scrooge collected himself enough to break away, but he kept her close, their foreheads resting against each other.

‘I’m sorry.’ He said softly. ‘I’m an idiot.’

‘You are.’ Goldie agreed. ‘You’re a big idiot, you stupid old Sourdough.’

‘When did you become the emotionally mature one?’ Scrooge wondered aloud, as his hand trailed down her back, tracing the silk of her nightgown with his finger tips.

‘Around about the time my daughter left and told me she never wanted to see me again.’ Goldie whispered, seriously.

‘She left me too.’ Scrooge reminded her. ‘I pushed her over the edge, remember.’

‘Yeah, but she was only at the edge because of me.’ Goldie mumbled, his words from earlier coming back to haunt her.

‘I thought we weren’t blaming each other. That means you can’t blame yourself either.’ Scrooge said, regretting his earlier outburst more and more with every passing moment.

Goldie sighed, and leaned into his embrace, resting her forehead on his shoulder while his arms came up to wrap around her.

‘I’m so tired,’ she said, eventually. ‘We didn’t get home until the early hours.’

‘You went to get her? Where was she?’ Scrooge frowned.

‘Spoonerville.’ Goldie grumbled.

‘That’s over three hundred miles away!’ Scrooge exclaimed.

‘Well yeah, like I said. I’m tired.’

‘You’re incredible.’ Scrooge told her, sincerely. ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’

‘She made me promise not to. She still can’t bear to disappoint you.’ Goldie laughed. ‘I guess she wasn’t so bothered about disappointing me. You didn’t wonder where I was?’

‘Of course I wondered. I always wonder where you are when you’re not with me. And what you’re wearing. Or what you’re not wearing.’ He tugged on the fabric of her nightgown to emphasise his point and attempt to lighten the mood.

Goldie smacked his chest, teasingly. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she started to fiddle with the collar of his own nightshirt, pulling absently on a loose cotton threat.

‘She was surprised to see me.’ She said quietly, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her. ‘She didn’t think I’d really come all that way and get her.’

Scrooge didn’t say anything, he just kept a soothing hand on her back, the other cradling the back of her head as the events of the last twelve hours finally caught up with Goldie and her well schooled emotions finally began to bubble up to the surface. 

‘How did I mess up my little girl so badly that she’d think I’d leave her out there all alone when she needed my help?’ She asked in a whisper, tears welling in her emerald eyes and spilling down her face. Scrooge could feel the wetness seeping into his shoulder and all he could do was hold her.

‘I tried so damn hard not to be my own mother. And in the end, I turned out just the same.’ Goldie finally voiced the fear that had haunted her ever since Dawson had first left.

‘No, you didn’t.’ Scrooge said firmly, taking her by the shoulders and taking a small step back, so that he could look her in the eye. ‘Now you listen to me, Goldie girl. I know I never met your parents, and from what little you’ve told me I’m glad of it. I don’t think I could stop myself from clobbering them for the way they treated you. But I know that you are not your mother, and Dawson is not you.’

Goldie snorted, bitterly. ‘How? How do you know that?’

‘Because when she was in trouble, she picked up the phone and she called you. When it really mattered, she asked you to help her. And you did.’ 

‘Of course I did.’ Goldie said, defensively. ‘She’s my daughter.’ Scrooge smiled.

‘See?’ He said, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. ‘You aren’t your mother, Goldie.’

Goldie closed her eyes and let out a breath, and as she did so Scrooge pulled her to him again, gathering her against his chest and tucking her head under his chin. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she let herself enjoy the comfort of his embrace.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured, her voice muffled in his chest feathers. ‘I love you a lot, you know.’

Scrooge chuckled. ‘I do know. I love you a lot too, more than anything in the world. Both of you.’ Then he caught himself and corrected. ‘All of you. Including whatever little miracle comes out of that egg. We’re going to make this work.’

Goldie squeezed him in a tight hug, and he kissed her forehead again.

‘Do you think maybe we could wait a couple more hours before we make this work?’ Goldie asked, eventually. ‘I’m pretty sure Dawson will be dead to the world for a while yet, and I want to get a little more rest while I can. I get the feeling it’s going to be a long day.’

‘Sleep when the baby sleeps,’ Scrooge remembered with a smile. ‘We ought to get back into that habit.’

‘Exactly.’ Goldie said, chuckling. ‘Though I seem to recall you and I were never too good at it last time.’

‘It’s not my fault you’re such a tantalising temptress.’ Scrooge defended. ‘You and me, and a bed? It’s a recipe for disaster.’

‘The evidence is asleep across the hall,’ Goldie agreed. Then a yawn crept up on her and she couldn’t stifle it. Scrooge took her hand and led her back to their bed.

‘Come on then, a few more hours it is. I’ll do my best to keep my hands off you.’

As they snuggled back under the covers, Scrooge kept his distance, true to his word. Goldie, however, had other thoughts. She rolled over and curled into his side, resting her head on his chest and slipping a leg between both of his, entwining them together.

Goldie fell asleep quickly, truly exhausted. Scrooge, who hadn’t spent most of the night driving to and from Spoonerville, lay there in the morning light, his wife in his arms and his mind drifting to his daughter, asleep down the hall, and the possibilities of what new adventures were to come.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some fluff. With a side of fluff. And more fluff on top.

When Goldie woke again, a few hours later, she finally felt rested enough to face the day. She ventured downstairs to find Duckworth so she could make sure he knew to make Dawson’s favourite chocolate chip pancakes, leaving Scrooge to his reunion with their daughter.

Scrooge knocked softly on Dawson’s bedroom door. He’d avoided this wing of the house for so long, not wanting to be reminded that she wasn’t there. Thankfully, that hadn’t stopped Duckworth from keeping it pristine.

‘Mom? Is that you?’ His daughter’s voice answered from inside the room, and his breath caught in his throat. He carefully turned the handle and opened the door a crack.

‘It’s me,’ he said, softly. ‘Can I erm... come in?’

‘Daddy!’ Dawson gasped, and as he opened the door a little wider he heard the thuds as she leapt out of bed and stumbled across the floor. He waited patiently for her to open it properly, having learnt his lesson early on in her teens that so much as glancing into her bedroom uninvited was a capital offence.

Another thud, and a rustle of fabric, and the door finally opened, revealing his long absent daughter, tying her robe around her waist and looking for all the world like she’d been through hell.

‘Dawson,’ he breathed, his eyes misting immediately at the sight of her. ‘Look at you.’

Dawson flushed, and pulled the robe more tightly around herself, shaking her long hair so that it fell in front of her face and covered her puffy eyes.

‘Sorry, I didn’t expect... I thought you were Mom. I must look terrible... I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t want you to see me like this.’

‘Oh hush now,’ Scrooge dismisses, reaching for her. ‘Come here, my darling girl.’ The moment his hand connected with her arm she crumbled, and stumbled forward into his welcoming embrace. Before she knew it, Dawson was sobbing into the lapels of her father’s shirt, and Scrooge was running soothing circles on her back with his hand.

‘You must be so disappointed in me,’ Dawson mumbled, miserably, when she’d cried herself out. Scrooge shushed her, but she noted he didn’t directly deny it. She supposed that was fair enough. Eventually, she stepped out of his arms, rubbing at her eyes, and noticed his gaze flicker to the egg that sat in her old basinest, under the warm glow of a vintage heat lamp. The corners of his eyes tightened just slightly at the sight of it, but otherwise he didn’t react.

‘Mom told you.’ Dawson surmised. Scrooge just nodded.

‘She did. And you should know, she did a sterling job of it too.’

Dawson sighed and stepped back into her room, moving to sit down on the edge of her bed. Scrooge followed, cautiously, and perched beside her, the egg between them.

‘She’s been great.’ Dawson admitted. ‘I don’t deserve it... I’ve been so horrible to her. The things I said to her before I left...’

‘What did she tell me this morning?’ Scrooge mused. ‘All daughters have to hate their mothers. It’s a right of passage, or something.’

Dawson looked appalled.

‘I don’t hate Mom!’ She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

‘Glad to hear it. That’s what I told her.’ Scrooge nodded, as though commenting on the weather.

‘Does she really think that I do? I mean, she drives me crazy...’

‘Aye. She does that.’

‘But I love her so much. She has to know that, right?’

Scrooge sighed, looking at his daughter’s stricken face and thinking, not for the first time, just how similar his wife and their wild daughter were. Equally stupid, the pair of them.

‘I’m sure she knows,’ Scrooge said, diplomatically. ‘But it wouldn’t hurt to remind her of it, once in a while.’

Dawson’s face fell as the reality of her and Goldie’s fractured relationship hit her hard. Of course she loved her mother. She loved her parents more than anything in the world. She didn’t love the things they did sometimes, but she loved them. She had never even considered that could be in doubt, even when she’d screamed at them in anger and frustration, and run away from home. Looking back on it now, it all seemed quite insignificant. Everything seemed insignificant, compared to the prospect of what was to come.

‘I didn’t know what to do,’ Dawson said, almost to herself. ‘I had absolutely no idea. If Mom hadn’t have come to get me...’ she trailed off, unable to put her fears into words. ‘She made the hospital get towels and hot water bottles. She fetched my old basinest from the garage, and found the heat lamp... I didn’t know about any of that stuff.’

‘All while I was sleeping,’ Scrooge grumbled, feeling quite useless. ‘I do wish she had woken me.’

‘I asked her not to,’ Dawson defended Goldie quickly. ‘I couldn’t... I just... I wasn’t ready for you to know yet. I’m sorry.’

Considering his response that morning when he had found out, Scrooge reluctantly mused that it had probably been the right call. But the hark back to that morning also brought another thought, and now it was in his head, he couldn’t shake it.

‘Listen Dawson...’ he began uneasily. ‘I’m not going to ask for all the details, I just... I need to know. Did anyone hurt you, sweetheart?

‘Hurt me?’ Dawson repeated, frowning in confusion. Then she saw the fear hidden in her father’s eyes amid the awkwardness and she understood. ‘Oh! Uh... no. Not... not like that. I’m fine, Daddy. I promise. Nobody hurt me.’

Scrooge let out a heavy sigh of relief. 

‘That’s good.’ He said, the tension suddenly leaving his shoulders. ‘That’s all that matters. Well, that and this little chap.’ He gestured to the egg and Dawson looked at him in surprise.

‘...you think it’s a boy?’ She asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. ‘Mom thinks it’s a girl. Innocent until proven guilty, that’s what she said.’

Scrooge frowned. ‘Of course she did. She said the same before you hatched.’

Dawson rolled her eyes. ‘And she was right, wasn’t she?’

‘I’m always right,’ came a voice from the doorway. Goldie lingered there, smiling but hesitant all the same.

Dawson’s face lit up at the sight of her mother. Without another word, she launched herself off the bed and threw her arms around Goldie, hugging her tightly.

‘I love you, Mom,’ she felt the jolt of shock as Goldie realised what she had said. ‘I’m sorry. For leaving and... For everything.’

Goldie found she couldn’t speak. She just wrapped her arms around her daughter and hugged her back, her eyes meeting Scrooge’s over Dawson’s shoulder.

_What did you do?_  She asked him silently, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

_Who me? Nothing at all_. Scrooge shrugged, innocently. Instead he got up, laid his cane against the bed frame and crossed the room to wrap his arms around both of his girls, holding them as close as he could.

The family group hug held for a moment more, until a familiar aroma finally made its way upstairs.

‘Is that... Duckworth’s chocolate chip pancakes?’ Dawson gasped, dropping her hold on both of her parents immediately. Goldie laughed, and Scrooge moved to keep his arm around her shoulder, not ready to lose the contact with his wife just yet.

‘Go on, go and bully him into adding extra chocolate chips, you know you want to.’ Goldie said, knowingly. Dawson grinned, and then hesitated, looking back at the egg worriedly.

‘Will... will it be okay up here, on its own?’

‘She’ll be fine,’ Goldie assured her. ‘You’ve got at least three weeks until you need to start worrying about that. Just keep her cozy and warm, and be sure to talk to her plenty. But she’ll be fine on her own while you go eat us out of chocolate chips.’

‘Talk to her? Really?’ Dawson asked, the thought feeling strange to her.

‘I used to tell you a bed time story every night, before you hatched,’ Scrooge told her, hugging Goldie closer to his side as the memory struck him. ‘Your mother used to sing to you. You got your own personal Glittering Goldie performance, every day for a month. It’s a wonder you didn’t come out singing ‘After The Ball’ when you hatched.’

‘It’s a wonder she didn’t come out with a Scottish accent, the way you never shut up telling her all those tall tales.’ Goldie nudged him in the ribs. ‘Honestly sweetheart, she’ll be fine. Go get your breakfast, we’ll be right behind you.’

Dawson hugged both of her parents again, briefly, and then hurried off down the hall toward the stairs that led her to Duckworth and his legendary pancakes.

Scrooge and Goldie remained.

‘You need a minute?’ Scrooge asked knowingly, when Goldie didn’t say anything.

‘Yeah.’ She nodded, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Her hand came to rest gently on top of the egg that contained her unexpected grandchild.

‘She’s home. She’s okay.’ Scrooge said, moving to stand beside her. He placed a stabilising hand on her shoulder and she leaned into it.

‘She said she loves me. That’s not normal.’ Goldie pointed out.

‘Of course she loves you. You’re her mother. And you’re wonderful.’ Scrooge said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly. ‘She’s lucky to have you, and she knows it.’

Goldie let out a breath. ‘This is not how I thought this week would go.’ She admitted. ‘I was planning on heading to Cairo to follow up on a lead for the Toth Ra treasure.’

‘Without me?’ Scrooge teased.

‘I was going to call you if I managed to swindle anything interesting.’ Goldie grinned. ‘And if I didn’t, I was planning on spending a few days on the beach reading a good book. I’ve been trying to finish one for weeks and you keep distracting me.’

‘I’ll never apologise for that,’ Scrooge said. ‘Distracting you is my favourite past time.’

Goldie rolled her eyes and let him take her hand and pull her to her feet. When she drew up straight level with him, her arms went around his neck and she leaned in for a chaste kiss. Scrooge immediately dipped her dramatically and she laughed.

‘Easy Moneybags. Not in front of the grandchild.’

It was suddenly as though their early morning exchange had never happened. At the very word, Scrooge’s face lit up, a beacon of wonder at the thought of the little McDuck hiding inside that egg, waiting to meet them. The joy of Dawson’s childhood flooded back to him, the little girl he’d always wanted but had given up hope of ever having. Dawson was their miracle, and now she was going to give them another.

‘Sentimental old fool,’ Goldie jibed, digging him in the ribs so he’d let her go, and quickly turning her back to wipe at the happy tears on her own cheeks in the process. ‘Come on, before Dawson finishes all of the pancakes.’

Goldie took her husband’s hand and led him out of their daughter’s room and downstairs toward the dining room, for their first family meal in over two years.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is literally no plot to this story beyond ‘Dawson comes home to have her baby’. No drama. Just fluff. Domestic fluff. 
> 
> I just needed to make that clear in case you were stringing along thinking I was about to drop an anvil on them or something.

One week in, and they fell into a routine. Scrooge spent many long days in the office, and Dawson was reminded of her childhood every time he said goodbye after breakfast.

She remembered that Goldie used to leave, too. Often she’d join Scrooge at the office, since several of their ventures were as much her business as his, and other times she’d go off on her own, sometimes for days on end. Other times they’d go off together, and come back with trunks full of treasure and stories to tell that enraptured Dawson, until the day she started to ask questions. And once Dawson started asking questions, she never stopped.

That was when she discovered her father’s greed. Her mother’s was even worse. Dawson was young when she realised there were three people in her parents’ marriage; Scrooge, Goldie, and their gold. Scrooge at least had a sort of code that he tended to stick to, whereas Goldie had no such scruples. As time went by, Dawson begged not to hear the stories, she didn’t want to know who her mother had stabbed in the back now, for the sake of some ancient treasure that would only be added to a bin full of so much gold they could never hope to spend it all.

The strange thing was, Dawson never looked back at her childhood and saw a life of excess. Sure they went on adventures and excursions which must have cost a fair amount to fund, and as a child she never really wanted for anything - though her father never missed an opportunity to teach her the value of hard work every time he provided her with whatever she asked him for. But they didn’t waste money. They didn’t take things for granted. And now that Dawson found herself with a baby of her own on the way, the security of her parents’ immense fortune was something she was grateful for, however guilty it made her feel for being such a hypocrite.

Every morning, after Scrooge left for work, Goldie and Dawson would dance awkwardly around each other until he came home again. Dawson knew her mother was not a stay-at-home house wife. If it weren’t for Dawson’s unexpected return, Goldie would have been off adventuring somewhere, which made things even more awkward as Goldie tried for all the world not to look bored out of her mind, sitting around the house all day with her daughter.

One afternoon, Goldie had ventured upstairs only to hear sounds of struggle from the hallway by Dawson’s room. She was concerned at first, but then the groans of pain were replaced with grunts of frustration punctuated by the odd profanity, and when she distinctly heard her daughter damn her ‘stupid, pointless, hippie hair do’ she thought it might just be safe to knock on the bathroom door.

‘Everything okay in there?’ She asked, cautiously peering around the door to see Dawson standing in front of the sink, glaring at herself in the mirror, every comb and brush from her dressing table resting uselessly beside her. Her face was red and her eyes flashed, McDuck temper in full flow, and then suddenly, Dawson turned her glare toward Goldie.

‘Geez mother, can’t you knock?’ She snapped, turning redder still, this time from embarrassment. She was a mess.

‘It sounded like you might need some help, is all,’ Goldie explained, unperturbed by her daughter’s response. She was well used to teenage Dawson McDuck - and she was still technically a teenager, for a while yet at least.

Goldie made to leave her to it, but then Dawson’s face crumpled.

‘No wait - Mom, I’m sorry.’ She said, quickly. ‘I just can’t get my stupid hair to do anything it’s supposed to.’

‘Of course you can’t,’ Goldie remarked, quirking an eyebrow. ‘It looks like you haven’t washed it since you left.’

Dawson flushed again and Goldie realised she’d hit the nail on the head. She rolled her eyes, and stepped into the bathroom.

‘Don’t worry sweetheart, your father once got us lost in a jungle in the Congo for six weeks and I managed to detangle that mess easily enough when we finally made it home. I’m sure it can’t be much worse than that.’

As Goldie began to tease at Dawson’s long, wavy locks however, it became quickly apparent that not even Goldie’s skills with a comb were going to be a match.

‘It’s hopeless,’ Dawson sighed. ‘I might as well just shave my head.’

Goldie frowned. ‘I think we can do better than that. Come on, come back to our bathroom, the light’s much better in there. I’ll cut it for you, if you like.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ Dawson mumble, admitting defeat. ‘Thanks Mom.’

Dawson followed Goldie down the hall, toward her parents’ bedroom, a place Dawson generally tended to avoid. They’d started locking the door at some point when she was around six or seven, but the damage had been done plenty by then. Even with Scrooge safely out at the Money Bin, Dawson made a point not to look up as they passed through the master bedroom, just in case.

Goldie noticed this out of the corner of her eye, and couldn’t help but smirk.

‘Don’t worry, I put the strap on and the gimp mask away this morning,’ she said casually, as she opened the door to the bathroom.

‘Mother!’ Dawson cried, looking like she wanted to scratch out her own eyes at the very thought.

Goldie chuckled. ‘Relax - I’m kidding! Or am I? I guess you’ll never know.’

‘Please, will you just cut my hair already? After we’re done I’m going to have to go and bleach my brain.’

‘Alright, alright,’ Goldie said. ‘Sit down here, I’ve got just the thing.’

She went to the cupboard under her side of the twin sinks and pulled out a bowie knife. Dawson’s eyes grew wide.

‘Uh, I was thinking maybe like scissors might be more appropriate?’

‘My way’s much more exciting though, don’t you think?’ Goldie asked with a grin. ‘Come on, sit down. I’m very good with this thing, you know.’

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ Dawson grumbled, taking a seat and gritting her teeth as Goldie began slicing at her hair. It reached all the way to her tail feathers, she hadn’t cut it for years, and as Goldie chopped it shorter and shorter, Dawson found she couldn’t bear to watch any more. She closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the way her head seemed to get lighter and lighter with every passing moment. Eventually she heard the sound of a hair dryer, and felt the sudden rush of heat blowing what little hair she had left into what she could only imagine was a fluffy, frizzy mess.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sound stopped, and Dawson felt Goldie’s fingers running carefully through her hair, hardly snagging at all. At last, Dawson dared to open her eyes and what she saw in the mirror made her gasp.

Her hair was short, but not hideously so. It was cut just above her shoulders, where it fell in miraculously styled waves. She’d couldn’t remember ever seeing her hair look so... nice. Not since she’d been a little girl, the last time she’d let Goldie near it.

‘Wow,’ she whispered, somewhat awestruck. Goldie stood back and admired her work. 

‘See? I knew my daughter was hiding in there somewhere.’ She remarked, twirling an errant strand around her fingers so that it fell the right way. ‘You look lovely. And so grown up.’

Dawson’s face fell, and Goldie frowned. She hadn’t intended offence. For once.

‘Thanks for helping Mom,’ Dawson mumbled, getting up quickly. Without another word, she slipped out of the bathroom and back down the hall to her own room. Cautiously, Goldie followed. She found her sat on the edge of her bed, the ever present egg placed precariously before her.

‘I don’t think I can do this.’ Dawson said, seriously. She didn’t look up, Goldie wasn’t even sure she knew she was speaking aloud. ‘I can’t even take care of my own hair, how am I supposed to take care of a baby?’

‘You can do this,’ Goldie said, noticing the little jolt when Dawson realised she was there. ‘We’ll help you, sweetheart.’

‘I didn’t even get to decide if I wanted kids.’ Dawson continued to ramble. ‘It just... happened. Whenever I used to think about this, when I was younger, I always imagined it differently. I’d be married, and have my own house, and my own life, and I wouldn’t have to rely on you and Daddy for anything.’

Goldie tried her best to ignore the way those words hit her in the gut.

‘You made me look like a grown up,’ Dawson continued, her fingers going to her new short hair. ‘But I’m not a grown up. I’m a stupid kid, and I don’t know if I even want this.’

Goldie sighed, and went to sit on the bed next to her daughter.

‘You know I never wanted kids, right?’ She asked.

Dawson frowned. ‘What?’

Goldie nodded. ‘Your father was the one who was desperate to procreate. I was perfectly happy it just being the two of us. I swore when we met I’d never laid an egg and I never intended to.’

‘Really making me feel good about myself here, Mother.’ Dawson laughed, nervously. Goldie just shrugged, and carried on.

‘After fifty years together, I thought I’d gotten away with it. I was well past laying age, and he’d stopped asking. We were growing old together, just the two of us, and that was fine. And then one day... we found a fountain of youth in Ronguay and suddenly we had a second chance at a life Scrooge had given up on living.’

Dawson was silent, her eyes set on the egg in its basinest. The symbol of a life she’d never considered, and now she was living it, whether she wanted to or not.

‘I love your father.’ Goldie said, firmly. As though she were defending against silent accusations, perhaps even from her own memories. ‘I know you know that, but I’m not sure I can ever truly explain just how much. We’re two sides of the same coin, he and I. We fell in love when we were different people, both hardened and broken by the cruel world we lived in, and we very nearly let our stupid pride and distrust keep us apart.’ Goldie’s eyes misted a little, as her mind went back to their Klondike days, just for a moment.

You never told me what it was that kept you together.’ Dawson remarked, suddenly. ‘Both you and Daddy have told me this before, how you nearly missed your chance to be together. But you never said what it was that changed things.’

‘It was a letter,’ Goldie replied, with a reminiscent smile. ‘One that I very nearly didn’t write, and your father very nearly didn’t read. He left it in the snow, unopened, the stupid Sourdough, and a few years later some selfless soul found it, and mailed it, and he finally opened it. He came back to Dawson soon after and I let him have it for making me wait that damn long.’

‘And then you got married?’ Dawson asked, frowning as she realised there was so much of her parents’ lives she didn’t know. She’d never asked.

‘Not right away, but yes,’ Goldie said, evasively. It seemed she wasn’t going to elaborate further.

‘So, you found the fountain of youth and were suddenly young again, and you changed your mind about wanting kids?’

Goldie shook her head. ‘Oh no, I didn’t change my mind. But your father hadn’t changed his either. He begged and begged and begged, and we fought about it none stop, until eventually - because, as previously mentioned, I love the stupid man far too damn much - he wore me down and I finally relented. After sixty years, I couldn’t put him off any more. But even after I laid your egg, and your father lost his mind in love before he’d even set eyes on you, I couldn’t see anything more than the burden. The inconvenience. The pain of getting that damn thing out in the first place.’

‘Wow, Mom. This wholesome tale is doing wonders for my self esteem.’

‘Yes well, it should. Because then one day, you hatched. And suddenly you were real. This tiny, helpless little yellow thing, all slimey and frankly, really quite disgusting. I have never been more terrified in my life. But then you looked up at me with those big green eyes of yours and despite everything I expected, I fell utterly, hopelessly in love. And then it didn’t matter that I never wanted kids. Because as soon as I had you, you were all that mattered.’

Dawson looked down at the egg, nestled in it’s basinest. Her wide eyes were fearful again, and Goldie could see them more clearly now that her hair was that much shorter.

‘What if she hatches and I don’t feel that?’ She asked in a whisper.

‘You will,’ Goldie assured her. ‘If it happened for me, it’ll happen for you. Of course, even after it happened I got hideously depressed when I couldn’t get you to eat, sleep, stop crying, pretty much everything babies do. So there’s that.’

‘I’m so glad I have that to look forward to.’ Dawson deadpanned.

‘You need to know however you feel is okay. I didn’t want a baby,’ Goldie admitted. ‘I didn’t know what to do with that egg when it came out, it scared me more than anything ever has.’ She waited until Dawson looked up and met her eye, and then she didn’t look away. ‘I sang to you then, because I didn’t know what to say to you. Your father couldn’t stop talking, he’d have done it morning, noon and night if he hadn’t known I’d wallop him for it.’

‘I remember you singing.’ Dawson said, quietly. Goldie raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘I didn’t know I did, but now whenever I go to sleep I can hear it. I tried to remember some of the songs you sang but it’s all just snippets... I don’t know the words.’

‘That’s okay, you don’t have to sing the same songs I did. You can sing your kum by yah, la di dah hippie songs. I could accompany you on the tambourine.’ Goldie winked.

‘Mom!’

‘What? I’m great at the tambourine. No one could shake that thing like I could, back in the music halls of the Yukon.’

‘I don’t... I just can’t think of anything. It’s like everything I know has gone out of my head.’ Dawson flushed red, and Goldie was reminded absurdly of her little face at her school pageants, when she was pushed to perform because her mother was Glittering Goldie, and surely she wanted to grow up to be just like her. Dawson hated those pageants more than anything in the world, and Goldie knew it.

‘Remember when you were little, and we used to dance around the kitchen to Cobby Vee?’ She asked, a sudden stroke of inspiration striking her. ‘You used to sing that song at the top of your voice.’

Dawson snorted at the memory. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘Just pretend you’re back in that kitchen. You’re just singing along to the radio.’ Goldie said, encouragingly.

‘Will you sing with me?’ Dawson asked in a small voice. Goldie smiled, and bent down to pick up the egg, keeping it snugly wrapped in its blankets and settling it in the crook of Dawson’s elbow. Then Goldie sat back down beside her daughter and hugged her close, holding her and Scrooge’s entire precious legacy in her arms. She rocked them back and forth, as she’d done when Dawson was a baby, and started to sing.

A few lines in, with her eyes firmly closed, Dawson began to join in.

‘ _Take good care of my baby_

_Now don't you ever make her cry_

_Just let your love surround her_

_Paint a rainbow all around her_

_Don't let her see a cloudy sky...’_

They sang and sang, songs they both knew, songs Dawson knew that Goldie had never heard of, or others from long ago, that Goldie’s own mother had sung to her. She sang those with a bitterness in her mouth, but by the end of them she found they had taken on new meaning.

‘ _Little lost child in a room full of strangers,_

_Home is behind you and dead anyway._

_Night dreams have led you across North America,_

_Looking for fiddlers you don't have to pay._

 

_Known in your home town for freedom and style._

_Envied by those who bow down to the mill._

_You wonder now how you ever could smile._

_You wonder now if they envy you still._

_But don't you worry, little lost child,_

_You did what you had to do._

_Don't you worry._

_You're gonna be fine child._

_You're gonna come through._

_I know that you're gonna come through.’_

 

Dawson looked up at her mother as she wound her way through the haunting melody. This was the song Dawson remembered. This was the song Goldie used to sing, back when she shouldn’t have been able to remember. There was pain and sadness in her voice, but more than that, there was a resounding determination that Dawson felt all the way to her bones.

‘I said some awful things to you.’ She said, when Goldie’s voice faded away at last. ‘I’m sorry, Mom.’

‘So did I. It’s okay.’

‘Is it?’

‘Oh sweetheart, of course it is. You and I will say plenty more awful things to each other in our lifetimes.’ Goldie smiled, nudging her playfully. ‘When that little monster comes out, you’ll see what I mean. She’ll be your baby forever, just like you’ll always be mine.’

They stayed there in Dawson’s room as the afternoon light began to wane, and when Scrooge returned from work that’s where he found them, curled up on Dawson’s bed with her egg nestled between them, looking more content in each other’s company than he’d ever seen them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ‘Cobby Vee’ song is obviously Take Good Care of my Baby by Bobby Vee - though actually written by Carole King (Kingfisher?)
> 
> There is a turn of the century song called Little Lost Child that I was originally thinking of using here, but then I decided I actually liked this Tom Paxton song instead that had the same name. So... suspend your disbelief and pretend it’s a 19th century classic, m’kay?
> 
> Thanks to all who are still reading this mind-numbingly fluffy twaddle. 😘


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of SUPPORTIVE MAMA GOLDIE before the next chapter which is all angst all the time.

Dawson sat in the waiting room, her two week old egg clutched tightly in her hands. She couldn’t help but glance around at the other young mothers around her, and noted uncomfortably that none were quite as young as she was. In fact, she realised quite quickly that she wasn’t the only one who had noticed. The weight of judgement felt heavy on her shoulders, and all she could do was curl in on herself and focus on the egg on her lap. She wished suddenly for her long hair, so she could better hide behind it, but more than anything she wished she wasn’t so obviously Dawson McDuck.

Goldie flounced through the double doors a moment later, two take out coffee cups in her hands. She paid no heed to the waiting room full of expecting mothers, who all sat up a little straighter when they recognised Goldie McDuck. Dawson, however, shrunk even more as a result.

‘Here you go, baby,’ Goldie hummed, handing Dawson her coffee cup. Dawson took it, colour rushing to her cheeks, and mumbled a thank you.

‘What’s the matter with you now?’ She asked, truly baffled. The Dawson she had left had been in good spirits a few minutes ago.

‘Nothing, Mom. Just... keep your voice down, okay?’

Goldie frowned and then looked up, noticing the room for the first time. As she did so, every face in the room quickly averted their attention, but not fast enough.

‘Oh, I see,’ Goldie said, her eyes narrowing as her instincts kicked in. ‘Some of these nosy old hens want a show, is that it? Well you’re not getting one. So why don’t you keep your eyes on your own pale yolkers and off of my daughter, hmm?’

‘Mom, please,’ Dawson hissed, mortified. ‘Please, just leave it.’ A hubbub of indignation began to bubble up around them and Goldie looked as though she wanted nothing more than to roll up her sleeves and throw herself into the fray.

‘Dawson McDuck?’ A voice cut through the din.

‘Yes,’ Dawson stood up quickly, gasping as she nearly lost her grip on the egg and clutching it tightly to her when she managed to save it. The chorus turned to tutting and Dawson flushed even more than before.

Head down, Dawson quickly followed after the nurse and left Goldie raging in her wake. Goldie considered, for a moment, staying behind and giving the waiting room a piece of her mind.

‘Mrs McDuck, will you be joining us?’

Goldie glanced at her daughter, lingering in the hallway, her eyes wide and her unhatched grandchild clutched in her arms, and forced herself to let it go. As the McDuck’s made their way down the hall, the waiting room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

 

‘And you’re how old... you’re in your twenties I suppose?’ The doctor mused a short while later, as she flipped through Dawson’s chart. Goldie bristled immediately, but pretended not to notice.

‘I’m nineteen.’ Dawson replied, in a small voice.

‘Goodness, well. If only we were all so lucky to find a nice husband that early in life, hmm?’ The doctor said with a thin smile. Once again, the feathers on the back of Goldie’s neck stood up. She was on high alert.

‘Oh, uh... I’m not married.’ Dawson said, awkwardly. She didn’t look up at her mother, just kept her eyes on the egg resting on the table before them.

‘Ah, I see.’ The doctor hummed, hesitating for a moment, and then getting back to her chart. ‘Any history of irregular shells in the family? Pip problems or assisted hatchlings?’

No,’ Goldie answered for Dawson, firmly. The doctor smiled again, tightly.

‘And on the uh... father’s side?’ Dawson just looked at her feet.

‘All that’s usually passed down on the mother’s side isn’t it, so I think we’ll take the risk. Wouldn’t you agree, doc?’ Goldie interjected. Dawson coloured, furiously.

‘And how often are you turning the egg?’ The doctor continued.

‘Er...’

‘Regularly,’ Goldie supplied, unfazed and still somewhat riled.

‘You do know the current recommendation is at least twice a day.’ The doctor said, rather sternly. Dawson turned sharply to her mother, who just rolled her eyes.

‘Oh please. I turned you once a week if at all. And you came out fine.’ Goldie shrugged.

‘What happens if you don’t turn it?’ Dawson asked urgently, ignoring her mother.

‘Well...’ the doctor trailed off.

‘Absolutely nothing.’ Goldie answered for her.

‘Turning the egg is important to ensure the continued development of the foetus.’ The Doctor reeled off, and Dawson’s panic rose.

‘But I haven’t been doing that!’ She gasped, her hands flying to her beak. ‘Should I do it more to make up for it?’

‘You don’t want to overdo it. Especially if you haven’t been turning it all that much, you don’t want to go so far as to shake the egg more than it needs.’

‘Oh my god, I knew it, I’ve been doing it all wrong. I’m going to scramble my baby!’ Dawson was approaching hysterics and Goldie had had enough.

‘Alright, this is getting out of hand.’ She said, placing a hand on Dawson’s shaking shoulder. ‘Doc, the baby is fine. That egg gets picked up and passed around every day, it’s been turned regularly enough. You and I both know that rule is for stuck up incubator mothers who barely lay a feather on the thing from the moment they squeeze it out to the moment it pips.’

Now it was the doctor’s turn to flush. Because of course, she was exactly right. ‘Yes, well. How about trauma? Have there been any... accidents?’

‘Accidents?’

‘Usually with young mothers, especially outside of a stable home environment, knocks and cracks are not uncommon.’

Dawson turned pale, trying desperately to remember her every movement in the last two weeks, and wondering if she ought to mention the time Goldie drove for four hours with her freshly laid egg in the front seat. One look at her mother’s face, however, stopped her in her tracks.

‘Excuse me?’ Goldie asked in a low, dangerous voice. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

‘When the mother is unprepared for the responsibility of having a child, these things can happen and if gone unchecked, can seriously harm the unhatched child.’ The tone in the doctor’s voice was unmistakable. And Goldie had reached her limit.

‘First of all, my daughter _has_ a stable home environment, thank you very much.’ She snapped. ‘And that egg has been wrapped in cotton wool since the moment it was laid, and even if it hadn’t been, that baby is a _McDuck_. It’d take more than a little scrambling to keep my granddaughter down.’

‘Mom!’ Dawson gasped, horrified. Goldie ignored her and continued on her tirade.

‘Not to mention the fact that her grandpa is the richest duck in the world. And her grandmother will tear apart anyone who so much as looks at her funny, without hesitation, so I’d say the environment in which she’s going to be raised is rather better than the one she’s in right now. Now why don’t you hurry up and take your damn measurements already and quit judging my daughter? Because I’m pretty sure your business doesn’t extend beyond what’s inside that shell, so I’d appreciate if you’d crack on, if you’ll excuse the pun.’

There was silence for a moment, as electricity crackled on the air. Goldie glared at the doctor and the doctor glared back, and then finally, after what felt like a lifetime, she carefully took out her tools and began to carry out her check up without another word.

As the doctor took her measurements, then moved to lightly tapping on the egg which she listened for the sounds of life inside, Dawson suddenly felt the cold tendrils of fear creeping up her ribcage. What if Goldie was wrong? What if the baby wasn’t okay? What if she’d gone through all this and her egg was a dud? Or something she’d done had caused it to spoil? In that moment, Dawson realised something. However unexpected, and however inconvenient, she’d become a mother the moment she laid that egg and whatever came out of it, she was going to love it more than anything in the world, and she would fight anyone who tried to hurt her baby, just like Goldie would for her.

Dawson reached out to take her mother’s hand, and Goldie squeezed hers right back. As the doctor moved to the ultrasound machine, and strange, warped images flashed up on the screen beside them, Dawson clutched Goldie’s hand like a lifeline, until the moment the doctor finally stood back, looking satisfied.

‘A nice strong shell, and everything appears to be as it should be,’ she said, in her clipped, clinical tone. Dawson’s shoulder’s dropped and her whole body seemed to sag in relief. ‘Do you want to know the gender?’

‘No.’ Dawson replied, quickly. Goldie raised an eyebrow in surprise and Dawson grinned. ‘You and Daddy won’t have anything to fight about if we find out now.’

Goldie laughed. ‘And that would never do, would it? Alright then, you want to keep it a surprise, that’s fine with me. It’ll make my victory all the sweeter when she hatches.’

The doctor watched their exchange out of the corner of her eye, as she tidied away her tools and filled in Dawson’s charge.

She knew of Goldie McDuck, of course. Or, ‘Glittering’ Goldie O’Gilt as she was sometimes known. And Scrooge McDuck was a legend in Duckburg and beyond, everyone had a favourite story to tell about him. But little was known about their daughter, the little girl who came along when both of her parents should have been far too old to welcome a child. As a child she’d been a mystery, just like her parents. 

Dawson McDuck was young, and she had been foolish. A lot of young, foolish girls came through her doors, but few were accompanied by such a lioness of a mother as Goldie McDuck. Whatever trials lay ahead for their little family, they would face them together, with a fierceness unlike any other.

As the two women took their leave, the doctor reflected that this story, at least, ought to have a happy ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was prompted by @moon_opals and inspired by Allison Janney being a badass supportive Mama in Juno. Because if you mess with Goldie’s baby, she will rip your head off and then you’ll thank her for it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi duck friends! Lil trigger warning for PPD in this chapter just FYI. 
> 
> ENJOY THE ANGST.

Scrooge worked late that day, much to his chagrin. He spent his last few hours trying everything he could to get away, but to no avail.

Far later than he’d have liked, Scrooge arrived home and headed straight up to bed, where he found Goldie sat at her dressing table, her hair brush discarded beside the ribbons that had held her braid in place all day. In her hands, she held an album of photographs that Scrooge hadn’t seen for a long time.

‘All alright at the doctor?’ He asked, softly, not wanting to startle her. 

‘Hmm?’ She looked up, glassy eyed. Then, at the sight of him, she smiled. ‘Oh, yes. All fine. How’s the money, all still there?’ 

‘I wouldn’t know, I’ve been stuck in my blasted office. I don’t spend every moment I’m away from you swimming in the Bin you know, you minx.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Goldie grinned over her shoulder. ‘I just love that little swimsuit you wear when you do. A girl can dream, can’t she?’

Scrooge rolled his eyes and shrugged out of his coat, changing into his sleep shirt and approaching his wife where she sat. Over her shoulder, he saw the pictures of Dawson that her gaze lingered on. Early days, very early, before her feathers had even turned from yellow down to fluffy white.

‘Feeling nostalgic?’ He asked, one hand settling on her shoulder and the other moving to sink into her wild mane of hair. Goldie leaned into him a little, so his chest pressed reassuringly against her back.

‘Something like that,’ she murmured, reaching up to lay a hand on top of his. ‘Can you even believe she was ever that small?’

Scrooge smiled. ‘I remember it like it was yesterday. She had me wrapped around her little finger from day one. And it was a very little finger back then.’

Goldie sighed. ‘It certainly was. But a grip like iron all the same.’ Scrooge’s hand squeezed her shoulder, and she shook her head, as though chasing bad memories away. ‘The damn doctor gave her a rough time today.’ She said, instead.

‘What? What happened?’ Scrooge stood up straighter.

‘Oh, nothing all that bad.’ Goldie assured him. ‘Snide little comments about her age. Implying she isn’t responsible enough to raise a child. That sort of thing.’

‘What hospital?’ Scrooge was enraged. ‘I’ll give them a piece of my mind.’

‘I already did, don’t worry. And besides, Dawson hasn’t left that egg’s side since we got back. She’s got herself a pamphlet, convinced she knows far better than I do about it all now.’

‘And that’s good, is it?’ Scrooge grumbled.

‘It’s better than before, when she spent all her time worrying about every little thing, expecting me to have all the answers. I left her not long ago, singing some flower power lullaby.’ 

‘She’s okay?’

‘She’s going to be fine.’ Goldie smiled sadly, her gaze returning to the baby pictures of moments she barely remembered. ‘She’s going to be so much better at all this than I was.’

Scrooge froze, his hand catching in her hair. He twirled a lock around his fingers and leaned in closer, to press a kiss to her forehead. Their eyes met in the mirror.

‘Don’t say things like that, please,’ Scrooge pleaded softly. ‘Don’t even think them.’

‘It won’t stop me feeling them,’ Goldie said, shifting away from him just a little. Scrooge moved with her though, not letting her create any distance between them.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean... I just don’t want you to feel like that again. Not ever.’

Goldie nodded, and Scrooge tugged gently on her arm, prompting her to rise momentarily to her feet so that he could take her place on the chair. She sat back down on his lap, encased within the embrace of his arms. Still she clutched at the album in her hands.

‘It might happen to her,’ Goldie whispered, resting her forehead on his chest.

‘It might. But we know how to spot it now. And we know how to help.’ Scrooge reassured her.

‘We’re taking her to a different doctor if we do.’ Goldie grumbled.

‘We absolutely are,’ Scrooge agreed, grimly. ‘If it happens, we’ll get her through it. Together.’

 

 

Nineteen years earlier, Scrooge had not been so wise of the world of child bearing women as he would become. When Dawson was but a few weeks old, and Scrooge had endured yet another long night of his baby screaming and his wife screaming back, then screaming at him, and slamming doors and smashing glassware, which finally ended with Goldie passed out from exhaustion well into the morning and Scrooge doing his best to keep Dawson quiet so as not to wake her, all the while knowing that it was her mother she really needed. As the sun rose, he crept down to the kitchen in search of the strongest, blackest coffee he could find before he could summon the strength to drag himself into the office for a few hours.

It was there that Duckworth found him, staring into his empty cup, drifting somewhere between sleep and waking. 

‘If I may, sir,’ Duckworth began, somewhat awkwardly. Scrooge looked up at his faithful butler and noted the uncharacteristic discomfort on his face.

‘Yes, Duckworth?’ Scrooge prompted. ‘What is it?’

‘I wouldn’t normally presume to offer unsolicited counsel, Mr McDuck, but it would appear things are proving rather... challenging... for Mrs McDuck at the moment. More so than usual.’

‘You’ve noticed it too? I thought I was going mad.’ Scrooge shook his head, still somewhat dazed.

‘It’s been rather unavoidable, I’m afraid. Yesterday morning she threw a kettle at my head.’ Duckworth intoned, solemnly.

Scrooge scoffed. ‘Hardly out of character, though she usually limits herself to throwing things at me.’

‘If I may sir, have you considered that Mrs McDuck’s rather aggressive ennui and the arrival of young Miss Dawson may be connected?’

‘She’s tired.’ Scrooge defended his wife immediately. ‘And Dawson hasn’t been feeding well. It’s put her on edge, that’s all.’

Duckworth nodded, and went about preparing a fresh pot of coffee, just the way Scrooge liked it. He set it down before his master and Scrooge took a grateful sip, and then paused, realising Duckworth was still standing there.

‘Yes, Duckworth?’

‘I believe it may be more than that, sir.’ He said, eventually. His words were chosen very carefully, and Scrooge narrowed his gaze.

‘How so?’ He asked.

‘Mr McDuck, I am the youngest of seven, and the only boy in the family. All of my sisters but one have children of their own, and several of them suffered, as I believe Mrs McDuck is now, with a nervous condition after giving birth. A kind of... depression.’

‘Nerves? Depression?’ Scrooge spluttered. ‘Goldie isn’t depressed, and she has nerves of steel. She’s tired! That’s all.’

‘Of course, you know your wife sir, far better than I,’ Duckworth conceded. ‘But it is a devilish disease, and one that can sneak up on even the most stoic of mothers, often unawares.’

‘Thank you for your concern, Duckworth,’ Scrooge said, shortly. ‘But I’m afraid it is unfounded. Goldie is the strongest woman I know. The strongest _person_ I know. She needs a decent night of sleep, that’s all. Everything will be fine after that.’

‘Very good, sir,’ Duckworth nodded, knowing his place. He left Scrooge to his coffee and set about the rest of his morning. 

But as the day went on, Duckworth’s words played on Scrooge’s mind. He called several times through the day, only to reach a very tense nanny, and occasionally Duckworth himself, who assured him that everything was well. But Scrooge could hear Dawson wailing in the background.

That evening, he hurried home as early as he could. 

Goldie was quiet all through dinner, though she barely ate a thing. Scrooge tried to talk to her, but she didn’t seem to hear him. When Dawson woke, her cries echoing through the house, Goldie’s wine glass cracked in her hand.

Scrooge took care of that evening’s feeds, and Dawson fell asleep in his arms quickly, seemingly tired herself after being a menace to her mother all day. Goldie was already in bed when Scrooge returned to their room and laid the baby in her bassinest. Goldie’s back was too him, and her shoulders rose and fell with steadying breaths, but he didn’t believe she was asleep.

He slipped under the covers, his fingers itching to reach for her, but he didn’t dare. If she really was asleep, he didn’t want to wake her. And if she wasn’t, it meant she didn’t want him near her. Forehead lined with worry, Scrooge stared at her back for what felt like hours, before he himself drifted into a fitful sleep.

In the early hours of the morning, Scrooge woke to find himself staring at an empty space where the moonlight shone on their marital bed.

‘Goldie?’ He asked, sitting up and searching the darkness for her. He reached for his glasses and popped them on his bill, blinking as the shadow at the foot of the bed took solid shape.

‘Go back to bed, love.’ Goldie replied, her voice wavering. It didn’t sound like her, not really. Her voice was vibrant, full of joy and tricks, this Goldie sounded strangled and strained.

‘What’s wrong? Is everything alright?’ Scrooge three back the covers and got to his feet.‘Is Dawson...?’

‘It’s nothing. Go back to bed, Scrooge.’ Goldie pleaded with him.

But Scrooge had been married to his wife for more than sixty years. He’d known her even longer than that. And he knew when she was hiding something from him.

‘I won’t,’ he said, quietly. ‘Not until ye tell me what’s wrong.’

Goldie didn’t say anything, but her shoulders shook as she stood over the bassinest, the moonlight silhouetting her against the window. Scrooge padded softly across the room to stand just behind her, taking note of the slumbering babe before them.

‘I can’t do this,’ Goldie whispered, refusing to look at him. ‘I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Scrooge frowned. He was still not quite awake, and her words weren’t making sense. But for some reason, Duckworth’s voice echoed in his memory.

‘Every time I look at her, all I can see are a thousand different ways I can mess her up.’ Goldie babbled, tears spilling over onto her cheeks. ‘A hundred different ways she can get hurt. Everything I do is wrong, she cries all the time, she hates me Scrooge. And of course she does, I can’t do anything she needs me to do for her!’

‘Look at her, she’s fine. She’s sleeping.’ Scrooge laid his hands on Goldie’s shoulders, tugging her gently away from the window. ‘You’re exhausted Goldie, come back to bed, please. You’ll feel better when you’ve had some sleep.’

‘It’ll never get better, Scrooge! It never stops. You’re going to go back to work and leave me here and she’s going to scream and I’m going to do something wrong. I’m going to hurt her!’

‘You won’t hurt her,’ Scrooge tried his best to soothe her. ‘You’re her mother.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything! I can’t... I can’t be... I never wanted to be...’ Suddenly Goldie began to sway on the spot and Scrooge saw what was about to happen before it began. He stepped forward and caught her as her knees buckled, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a crumpled heap. Most uncharacteristically, Goldie curled into his side, weeping uncontrollably.

Scrooge didn’t know what to do. He’d not seen her like this in a long while. Perhaps not ever.

She didn’t resist when he gathered her up in his arms and held her closely to him. A glance into Dawson’s crib assured him that the baby was entirely unaware of her mother’s outburst, fast asleep as she was. Scrooge shifted Goldie in his arms and returned them both to their bed, where Goldie proceeded to cry herself out, her tears soaking the feathers of his chest, until she had nothing left to give. Eventually, she fell asleep again, but even in her sleep everything about her was tense, every hackle was raised.

Scrooge didn’t sleep again.

 

 

The next morning, he extracted himself from her desperate embrace and slipped downstairs to the kitchen. He burst through the doors, wild eyed and sleep deprived, and Duckworth stood up straight in surprise.

‘Sir?’

‘You were right, Duckworth.’ Scrooge said, his heart thumping hard in his chest at his own words. ‘Something is wrong, something is very wrong.’

‘Ah.’ Duckworth moves to pull out a chair for Scrooge, who sat it it heavily, watching through heavily lidded eyes as Duckworth poured him some coffee.

‘What should I do? How can I help her?’ He despaired. ‘She won’t let me. She won’t even listen to me.’

‘No, indeed that is rather the rub of it all.’ Duckworth nodded. Scrooge rubbed at his forehead, just between his eyes.

‘How bad can this get?’ He asked, eventually.

‘We very nearly lost my eldest sister to it, sir.’ Duckworth replied, carefully.

Scrooge frowned. ‘Lost? You mean...’

‘Yes sir.’ Duckworth nodded again.

‘Bless me bagpipes,’ Scrooge breathed. This was too much. It was all too much. If only he’d have known. If only he’d have listened when she told him this wasn’t what she wanted. He’d worn her down, and now he was going to lose her.

‘If I may sir,’ Duckworth began, hesitantly.

‘Yes, yes, you may.’ Scrooge said quickly. ‘Curse me kilts man, if you’ve some advice for me, let’s have it now.’

‘There is treatment nowadays. Perhaps she might agree to see a physician.’

Scrooge blew out a breath. ‘I can’t imagine Goldie taking that suggestion particularly well.’

‘No, nor I. But perhaps it is enough just for you to be there, sir. Here, as it were.’

‘Alright. Good. Right, well. That’s what I’ll do then. Call the office for me, will you? I’ll stay home today. And then... well, I’ll just take it from there.’

‘Very good, sir,’ Duckworth said, leaving Scrooge to his coffee and his morning musings once more.

 

 

Scrooge made his way back upstairs just as Dawson was beginning to stir. He wasted no time in slipping back into the bedroom and heading straight to her crib, rocking it gently to ease her back into a blessed few more minutes of slumber, hoping that Goldie would keep resting too.

But it wasn’t to be. Sheets rustled behind him, and he turned to see his wife rolling over in bed, dark circles under her green eyes and hair a tangled mess. Scrooge felt the sudden need to tell her how beautiful she looked to him right then, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him.

‘You’re still here.’ Goldie stated the obvious, her brow wrinkling in confusion. 

‘I am,’ Scrooge nodded. ‘McDuck Enterprises can manage without me for a few days.’

‘You’re staying because of me,’ Goldie realised, sinking into the sheets. ‘Because I need help. Because I can’t do anything I’m supposed to be able to do.’

Scrooge braced himself, and cautiously approached the bed. ‘I’m staying because my baby girl is only a few days old, and she needs her parents. Both of them. My wife is exhausted, and she shouldn’t have to do everything on her own.’

‘I should be able to...’

‘No, of course you shouldn’t.’ Scrooge spoke firmly, but gently. ‘This is the hardest thing you’ve ever done - it’s the hardest thing we’ve ever done. I’m the one who convinced you to do it, and I’m the one who’s going to help you through it.’

Goldie was silent. Scrooge could almost see the thoughts whirring in her head, and none of them were pleasant. He didn’t know what he could say to make this better. Perhaps there wasn’t anything he could say.

‘We’re a team, Goldie. You and I. We’re stronger together, we always have been.’

He sat down in the edge of the bed, just close enough to reach out and place a cautious hand on her shoulder. Goldie seemed to shrink further away from him.

‘I don’t feel anything. I should feel something, shouldn’t I? What is wrong with me?’ She whispered, staring at the sheets that bunched in her fingers. Scrooge swallowed heavily, and tightened his grip on her shoulder.

‘You’re going to get through this Goldie.’ He said, assuring himself as much as her. ‘I promise you, everything is going to get better.

Goldie snorted mirthlessly. She didn’t believe him. Scrooge hesitated for a moment and then threw caution to the wind.

‘Will ye let me take you to see the doctor?’ He asked, quietly.

Goldie stiffened. ‘What? Why?’

‘Because you’re not well, and a doctor can help you with this more than I can.’

She jerked away from him. Her eyes flashed with a dangerous fire, a fire he hadn’t seen in her for a long time. It was almost reassuring, if he hadn’t known the reason it was there.

‘You think I’m losing my mind?’ She demanded.

‘What? No!’ He spluttered, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

‘What kind of doctor do you want me to see?’ Goldie’s eyes narrowed in distrust.

‘A... a doctor! Just a regular doctor! They might give you something to help you sleep, or...’

‘Or what, Scrooge?’

‘Or something to help you cope.’

‘So you don’t think I can cope? You think I’m failing? I knew it. I am, aren’t I? I can’t believe you made me do this...’ Goldie was rambling again, shaking her head. Her eyes were red and unfocused, and Scrooge was suddenly glad she was still in bed so she couldn’t fall down again.

‘Goldie, please. I’m trying to help you.’

‘Help me? This is all your fault!

I know...’ Scrooge said, desperately. ‘I know... and I’m so sorry.’

Goldie growling and pulled at her hair in frustration. ‘Stop apologising!’

‘Oh for goodness sake, I don’t know how to help you. What do you _want_ , Goldie?’

Goldie’s shoulder’s slumped, and the tears that had been threatening to fall spilled over. ‘I just want it to stop.’ She whispered. ‘I just... I can’t... I just want it all to stop.’

Scrooge’s heart constricted in his chest, and Duckworth’s words echoed through his mind. _We very nearly lost my eldest sister to it_. Scrooge tentatively reached for her and thanked whichever deity cared to listen that she didn’t pull away.

‘Let me take you to see the doctor Sweetheart, please.’ He begged. ‘They’ll give you something that will help. And I promise you, I’ll be here beside you every step of the way.

‘This is so ridiculous.’ Goldie sniffled pathetically, glaring at their joined hands.

‘I know.’

‘I am Goldie O’Gilt, damnit. I’ve fought demon armies and sky pirates and everything in between.’

You’re the toughest of the toughies, my love.’ Scrooge assured her. ‘But this is tougher than anything we’ve ever faced. We’ll get through this too, I promise.’

 

 

The next day, Scrooge found reportedly the finest doctor in Calisota, and scheduled an appointment. And then he very nearly had a heart attack himself. 

‘You want to prescribe _what_?’ Scrooge demanded, red in the face with disbelieving rage.

‘Now, Mr McDuck,’ the doctor said, in his calm, somewhat patronising tone. ‘It really is the most effective treatment. We have decades of research that proves this nervous condition, this psychosis, is linked to imbalances within the brain itself. Electro-shock treatment simply addresses those imbalances, corrects them.‘

‘My wife does not need correcting!’ Scrooge snapped. Goldie said nothing, she was uncharacteristically quiet, but she placed a warning hand on his arm, for the sake of his blood pressure if nothing else.

‘A medical term, that’s all, Mr McDuck.’ The doctor placated. Scrooge was considering how much gold it might take to revoke a medical licence. ‘As I said, it is of course not without its risks, but advances have been made and the success rate is impressive.’

‘What about the unsuccessful ones. What has gone wrong?’

‘Some mild memory loss, on occasion. But that’s very rare.’

‘Memory loss!’ Scrooge spluttered. ‘That’s it...’ He was enraged. The very thought of these people laying a hand on Goldie’s quick fire mind, of even a moment of their lives together being forgotten, it was unbearable. He felt his anger bubbling up inside him, building to a rage that would rival even his sister Hortense when it finally escaped.

‘Scrooge...’ Goldie sounded so very tired. Like she might let them do this hideous thing to her, if there was a chance it might work. Scrooge had never been more convinced his wife wasn’t in her right mind, and he certainly wasn’t going to let anyone shock her back into it.

‘No, Goldie. This is not happening.’ He said firmly. ‘I’m sorry my love, I know coming here was my idea. But this is not the solution... we’re going to find another way.’

The doctor objected of course, but Scrooge ignored him. He held his wife’s hands in his and she met his eyes, and saw his unfaltering devotion reflected back at her. She squeezed his hands, and nodded her assent, and without further ado Scrooge helped her to her feet and led her out of the doctor’s office, without another word.

 

 

‘You think I’m going to run,’ Goldie said later, when Scrooge lingered in the doorway of their bedroom, watching her feed Dawson, who had decided she deigned to actually eat for once.

Scrooge considered denying it, but she knew him too well. ‘The thought had crossed my mind,’ he admitted.

‘Mine too.’ Goldie said, not meeting his eye.

‘Goldie...’

‘I love you, Scrooge. You know I do. But I put all this off for a reason. Because I thought I’d be terrible at it and I _am_.’

Scrooge opened his mouth instinctively to rebuke her words, but he stopped himself, knowing it wasn’t what she really wanted to hear. 

‘I’m sorry, Goldie girl,’ he said, quietly. He left the doorway and approached the bed where she was sitting, propped up against the headboard with a sleepy Dawson in her arms. ‘I’m sorry to have put you through this.’

‘I love her so much, it’s terrifying.’ Goldie admitted. ‘I never loved anything like that. Not even you.’

Scrooge smiled. Her confession was a relief to hear, considering the week they’d had. But Goldie’s eyes were already clouding over with doubt again.

‘She’s going to hate me. She already hates me, she cries whenever I go near her.’

‘She’s not crying now.’ Scrooge pointed out.

‘That’s because you’re here.’

‘I’ll always be here then.’ Scrooge said simply. Goldie pulled a face.

‘Ugh. Stop being so perfect. It’s annoying.’ 

Scrooge grinned. ‘I can’t help it, I’m afraid. You really struck gold when you married me.’

‘I thought I struck gold and then married you.’ Goldie quipped. And then, once again, her face fell. It was like a heavy cloud kept blocking out her sun, but every now and then a twinkle if familiar daylight could break through.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve let you down.’ She whispered. ‘The one thing you ask of me, and I can’t do it for you.’

‘The one thing I asked of you was a pretty huge thing.’ Scrooge reasoned, moving to put his arm around her shoulders and hold his family close. ‘And besides, you did do it. Look at her, look at our daughter. Our little Dawson. She’s perfect.’

Dawson gurgled as if on cue. Her tiny body stretched in her sleep, and her eyes fluttered open. She blinked up at her parents with sleepy eyes, gave an enormous yawn for someone so small, and then nuzzled further into the crook of Goldie’s arm, drifting off to sleep once more.

Goldie let out a breath Scrooge realised she’d been holding since Dawson started to wake.

‘It’s going to get better, Goldie.’ He assured her, quietly, so as not to wake Dawson again. ‘We’re going to find a doctor who isn’t a complete quack, and get you something to help you sleep. And I’m going to take a leave of absence, the board are already putting together plans for a restructure while I’m gone.’

Goldie frowned. ‘You can’t, Scrooge. The company...’

‘The company will manage.’ Scrooge said, firmly. ‘McDuck Enterprises can manage without me. But _I_ can’t manage without _you_. If anything were to happen to you, Goldie, I’d fade away to nothing. You’re my greatest treasure, my Goldie girl.’

Goldie rolled her eyes and leaned into his embrace.

‘You sentimental old fool,’ she teased, and Scrooge smiled as the clouds parted again just for a little while.

 

 

The next day, Scrooge busied himself in the kitchen for hours. By the time Goldie came down in search of him, he’d used just about every pot, pan and utensil in the place but he was funnelling a strange green mixture into a bottle and looking mightily proud of himself.

‘What is that?’ Goldie asked, fearing the answer.

‘An old family recipe.’ Scrooge replied, catching a stray drop with his finger and popping it in his mouth reflexively. His beak wrinkled at the taste. ‘A herbal tincture,’ he explained further. ‘My mother used to drink this for, well, for her nerves. That’s what she always called it. Looking back on it now though, I wonder that it wasn’t something more than that.’

‘You’ll have me on the smelling salts next,’ Goldie grumbled, but she took the bottle from him all the same.

‘In the early days of the company, I used to suffer with insomnia something terrible,’ Scrooge told her. ‘It was worse when you weren’t here. I used to lie awake wondering where you were, what you were doing, if you were safe.’ 

Goldie nodded. She knew this, she’d watched him in those early years, utterly and obsessively focussed on his empire, with little and no time for anything else. She’d worried about him then, more than she cared to admit. It was why she’d taken off so much, she didn’t like that she couldn’t make it easier for him. As she recalled those times, she couldn’t help but see the parallels in their current situation.

‘Anyway,’ Scrooge continued, not wanting to linger on the past. ‘My mother gave me this recipe, to help me sleep. And it worked. So I thought you might like to try it. See if it helps.’

Goldie sniffed the liquid cautiously. It smelled disgusting, so that meant it was probably good for her.

‘If this knocks me out, you’re handling the two o’clock feed then are you?’ She asked him, eyebrow raised.

‘Of course,’ Scrooge agreed, quickly. ‘Whatever you need.’

Goldie paused and regarded her husband, standing there in their kitchen, smeared with green goo and looking for all the world like he’d cut his own heart from his chest and give it to her if it meant it might ease the ache in hers. He was wonderful, he was perfect. She didn’t deserve him, but somehow she had him.

She put down the bottle and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Scrooge was surprised, but his arms rose to stroke her back, knowing their place in this familiar embrace.

They remained there like that for a long time. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t strained. The two of them didn’t need words, they just generally liked to use them. But that day they simply needed to exist together, as two halves of a whole, each assuring the other that they were going to make it through another day.

 

 

In the present day, the two ducks were locked in a similar embrace. Scrooge’s head had dropped to Goldie’s shoulder and his arms to her waist, while she continued to flick through the photo album, finally reaching the moments she actually remembered. Dawson’s first steps, as she toddled across the hall of the Money Bin headed straight for the gold. She smiled at that one, thinking how if they hadn’t both been so panicked, it would have made for a perfect family portrait, the two of them chasing wildly after their tot as she teetered in the edge of the diving platform.

Goldie chuckled as she turned the pages, and Scrooge squeezed his arms tighter around her waist in response as the pleasant tumble reverberated through to him too.

Then suddenly, a yelp and a panicked cry broke their nostalgic spell, and their very much an adult daughter’s voice carried down the hall.

‘Mom! Daddy! Come quick!’ Dawson cried.

Scrooge sat up, and locked eyes with Goldie. Fear flickered momentarily, but it was quickly replaced with a fierce determination. Without a word, they rose from the dressing table chair and headed, hand in hand, to their daughter’s room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I’m not dead! I realised how long it’s been since I updated and honestly - I’ve been distracted setting up another fic, and LOSING MY MIND over all the new episodes. It’s taken me quite off track. 
> 
> This is a SHORT fluffy little chapter to tide you over. More to come, and i’ll wrap this one up in the next couple of chapters. Thank you for sticking with me!

Scrooge and Goldie pelted down the hall toward Dawson’s room, Goldie throwing the door open so hard it almost came off it’s hinges. 

‘What’s wrong? What happened?’ She asked, panting to catch her breath. 

Dawson was standing in the middle of the room, frozen in front of the bassinest, her arms outstretched before her awkwardly, as though she was torn between reaching for the egg and running away from it. 

‘It moved!’ She squeaked, her eyes wide with fear. 

Scrooge breathed a sigh of relief, and beside him Goldie’s shoulders dropped too. 

‘Is that all?’ She laughed. ‘From the racket you were making I thought you’d dropped it!’

Dawson’s jaw hung open in disbelief. ‘Is it supposed to move? It doesn’t say anything about that in the books!’ 

‘Well, your baby’s a McDuck, sweetheart.’ Goldie explained, resting her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and doing her best to encourage her to relax. ‘If she’s anything like you were she’ll be doing her damnedest to fight her way out ahead of schedule.’ 

‘Day twenty five, I hatched,’ Scrooge said, proudly. ‘Came out fighting.’

Dawson glanced at Goldie, who rolled her eyes. 

‘The McDuck lineage favours brawn over brains, I’m afraid.’ She said, not quite quietly enough for Scrooge to miss. ‘Rather punch their way out ahead of schedule than bake just a little longer. 

‘Well, when did I hatch?’ Dawson asked, frowning. 

‘Day twenty eight.’ Goldie replied, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘Almost normal. Your O’Gilt blood managed to dilute the idiotic McDuck biology just enough. But you did start getting restless around about now, I expect your little one will be the same.’ 

Dawson sighed, and pressed her hands over her eyes to try to quell the tension headache threatening to take hold. 

‘I guess I still have a few things to learn, huh?’ She said sheepishly. Goldie laughed. 

‘Oh sweetheart, _I’m_ still  learning. It’s okay, no one gets all this right on the first try. You’ve got us to help you, that’s why we’re here.’ 

‘I honestly don’t know what I’d have done if I didn’t have you guys.’ Dawson said quietly, in a moment of horrified clarity. ‘You have no idea.’ 

Goldie couldn’t help but let her mind wander back to the dark past she’d lingered on earlier that evening. True, their experiences weren’t the same, but their saving grace was. Their little family is what had gotten her through the trials of early motherhood, and it would get Dawson through it to. 

‘We have some idea,’ Scrooge said, when it seemed Goldie wasn’t able to. ‘We’re your family Dawson, and we’ll be here to support you no matter what. Isn’t that right, Goldie?’ His hand came to rest softly on the small of his wife’s back, and she jumped at the contact just a little, before shaking herself back to the present and forcing a smile on her face.

‘Of course it is,’ she agreed, leaning closer to him so that his hand settled on her hip instead. ‘Now, I don’t know about you but I am ready for some sleep. We ought to make the most of it while we can, before that little critter comes along.’ 

Scrooge squeezed his wife a little closer to his side, and she didn’t object to the closeness. Dawson glanced at them and very quickly surmised that she’d likely interrupted something with her false alarm. Her face suddenly flushed at the realisation.

‘I’m sorry I panicked, and I’m sorry I called you,’ she mumbled, quickly. ‘I’ll be fine now. We’ll be fine.’

Goldie smiled, for real this time, and slipped out of Scrooge’s embrace to lean down and press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. 

‘You promise you’ll always call me,’ Goldie said seriously. ‘I’ll always be here.’ 

‘Thanks mom,’ Dawson whispered, before wrapping her arms tightly around Goldie’s waist in a brief but fierce hug. Scrooge stood back and left them to their moment, turning his attention to the lamps in the room that he went to turn off. Dawson got into bed and Goldie smoothed out the covers as she snuggled under them, not quite tucking her in, but the gesture was there all the same. 

By the time Goldie joined Scrooge in the doorway, Dawson was asleep. They both paused and took in the scene before them; their baby asleep in her bed and  her baby beside her, silent and still, just like their mother. 

‘She’s going to be alright,’ Scrooge murmured, as Goldie took his hand and tugged him closer to her. 

Goldie shook her head, and went to turn off the main light, plunging the room and the hallway before them into a pleasant, safe kind of darkness.

‘She’s going to be brilliant.’ 

She squeezed her husband’s hand tightly in hers, and lead him back toward their bedroom at last. 


	9. Chapter 9

‘Morning sunshine!’ Goldie’s voice chimed, tearing through Dawson’s early morning dose.

‘Hmnff - What?’ Dawson winced as the drapes were thrown open and sunlight streamed directly into her bleary eyes. ‘What’s going on... what time is it?’ 

‘It’s nine AM.’ Goldie said, standing with her hands on her hips, the sunlight streaming around her like a golden halo. ‘You’ve officially regressed into a teenager. So I’ve regressed into a teenager’s mom and I’m making you get up.’

‘I’m  _still_   a teenager!’ Dawson objected, pulling the covers up over her head. 

‘Oh, so you are.’ Goldie pretended to be surprised and delighted at this revelation. She grinned when she saw Dawson’s fingers gripping the sheets more tightly in anticipation. ‘Then I’m perfectly within my rights to drag you out of bed.’ 

Without further ado, Goldie grabbed a handful of duvet and tugged, easily beating her sleepy daughter in a battle of brute strength and iron wills. Dawson squealed as her sheets were torn away, and immediately curled into a foetal position.

‘Aw, there’s my baby,’ Goldie chuckled. ‘Just like the day you hatched. A bit less slimy though, thankfully.’ 

‘You are the worst,’ Dawson grumbled, but eventually uncurled and pushed herself up to a sitting position onto to be immediately hit in the face with a pair of jeans. ‘What are you doing?’ She frowned as Goldie rifled through her drawers.

‘I’m taking you shopping.’ Goldie declared, with a grin. A cheesecloth tunic joined the jeans. 

Dawson stared. ‘What?’

‘Shopping! It’s been a while since we went shopping.’ Goldie shrugged. 

‘Mom, I don’t think you and I have been shopping together since before I could talk.’ Dawson said seriously. 

‘Exactly. So like I said, it’s been a while.’ Goldie said, innocently. Dawson’s eyes narrowed. 

‘What’s this really about?’

Goldie sighed. ‘You need to get out of the house, Dawson. Soon enough there’s going to be a little ball of yellow fluff wanting your attention every second of the day. Trust me, you need some time for yourself before that happens.’

Dawson faltered. She tried to find the real nefarious reason behind her mother’s apparent early morning charity, but she could find none. In fact, when Goldie carefully laid her favourite patchwork jacket onto the edge of the bed and stood back, awaiting Dawson’s response, she looked almost... was it nervous? It was something she barely remembered seeing on her mother’s curiously open face. 

‘What about the egg?’ Dawson asked, carefully. 

‘Your father is staying home today, he can watch her.’

‘He can?’ Dawson looked doubtful. 

‘Yes, Dawson, he can.’ Goldie tried her best not to let her annoyance show on her face. ‘Don’t look so surprised. If you only knew what... well. Never mind. Just suffice to say, your father can handle watching an egg for a day. And woe betide any one or any thing that wishes that little McDuck harm. She’s safer than him than she is with you or me.’ 

Dawson frowned at the surety of her mother’s words, but she didn’t push it. Goldie didn’t look like she was in the mood this morning. There was a dangerous glint dancing behind her smile. 

‘Alright then,’ Dawson finally relented, surprised at herself for breaking so easily. But the prospect of a day outside of the manor really was inviting, even if it was a day outside the manor with her mother, in public. 

Goldie positively beamed as she swept out of the room, her work done. ‘Excellent. We’ll take the limo, more room for bags.’ 

‘Wait - what? Mom!’ Dawson yelled after her, but Goldie was gone. Alone again, she eyed the gently wobbling egg and sighed. 

Today was going to be a long day. 

 

 

No one could spend money like Goldie O’Gilt. 

She made shopping an art form. Department stores would bristle when she entered, regular shoppers parting ways like the Red Sea, giving her a direct line to the cash register. At least, Dawson reasoned, she didn’t have to worry about Goldie stealing anything. She enjoyed shopping far too much to tarnish the experience with thievery. That anyone could see, anyway. 

Half the things Goldie picked out to be packaged up and delivered to the mansion later that day, Dawson had never heard of before. Strollers and cradles and walkers... and something on a bungee cord. And then came the clothes. 

‘Mom, don’t you and Daddy have my old baby clothes somewhere?’ Dawson asked, when Goldie picked yet another adorably cosy looking onesie off the rack. ‘Do we really need all this new stuff?’

‘I’m sure there are a few things that are salvageable,’ Goldie shrugged. ‘But honey, you were a baby nearly two decades ago. The world has moved on. Fabrics are softer and styles have changed and - oh! Look at this, isn’t it just adorable?’ 

Dawson eyed the tiny yellow sundress her mother held up, appraisingly. 

‘I guess,’ she said, her forehead creasing. Something wasn’t sitting right with this situation. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d never heard her mother use the word adorable in her life. 

‘Wait a minute, you have a dress in that exact same colour,’ Dawson accused, when recognition struck her. ‘Mother, are you trying to match my baby’s wardrobe to yours?’ 

‘A little bit of coordination never killed anyone, sweetheart. I’d match her with yours but they don’t make onesies out of cheese cloth.’ Goldie grinned.

‘Alright, that’s it. We’ve got more than enough, even if she only wears each outfit once, we’ve got enough her to get her to middle school.’ Dawson grumbled. ‘Let’s go home.’

‘Home?’ Goldie pouted like she was the teenager among them. ‘But we’re having so much fun!’

‘This isn’t fun!’ Dawson hissed. She didn’t want to make a scene, at least any more than Goldie tended to do just by existing. 

‘Don’t you want her to have nice things? Like you had?’ Goldie brandished a baby ski suit, to illustrate her point. 

Dawson flushed red. ‘Of course I - it’s not that, it’s just - ugh. I wish it wasn’t  you  buying it, that’s all.’ 

The moment Goldie’s face fell, Dawson felt her heart split in two. How things had changed. 

‘No, not... not _you_.’ She corrected, quickly. ‘I don’t mean  you . I mean... it’s not  _me_ . I’m such a hypocrite, here I am shopping on Daddy’s dime, when all we ever do is fight about it. 

Goldie sighed, and put the ski suit back. It would be a while until their first arctic adventure anyway, there would be other shopping trips. She gestured for the store assistant to package up everything she had managed to convince Dawson she needed, and steered her daughter and her existential crisis toward the door. 

‘You rejecting your father’s money isn’t going to make it go away, you know.’ Goldie said, keeping her voice low. They were in public, after all. 

‘So what, I should just shut up and live a life of luxury, and not care about anyone else? Like you do two do?’ 

Goldie paused, and counted to ten in her head. It had never worked before, but the other option was a blazing row in the middle of a department store and she’d worked too hard to get to this point to throw it all away again. 

‘Dawson, when did you say the last time you and I went shopping was?’ She asked, diplomatically. 

‘We’ve never been shopping. But -‘

‘And how many times would you say, from your childhood, do you remember me coming home laden with bags full of luxuries? How often do you recall me buying anything more than we actually needed?’ 

Dawson paused, and her objections fell away. She actually couldn’t remember her mother ever coming home with anything more extravagant than a new grappling gun ahead of an excursion, or a dress for a function - or the occasional heist. 

‘I’m not a spendthrift, I’ll give you that.’ Goldie allowed. ‘I like to buy things, and I have the money so why should I go without? But I’ll not have you paint me as some kind of societal layabout with nothing more to do than burn a hole in a credit card. I buy things when I need to, and I have a good time doing it. And I shop for your father, because someone has to. If it were up to him he’d have been wearing the same damn thing for the past hundred years.’ 

‘That red house coat,’ Dawson muttered, with a hint of a grin. 

Goldie pulled a face. ‘Exactly. We’re rich Dawson, but I’m not an idiot.’

‘Daddy  _swims in money_ .’ 

‘Yes, well. I said _I’m_ not an idiot. Your father’s a whole other matter.’ Goldie rolled her eyes.

‘We live in a mansion, we drive around in a limo, we have a butler...’ 

‘Oh right, and did Duckworth make you your favourite chocolate chip pancakes again this morning?’ Goldie asked.

‘Mom.’ Dawson glared.

‘Hmm?’ Goldie looked up innocently. 

‘Stop it. I know what you’re doing.’ Dawson grimaced, her fists balling at her sides. ‘I know how much of a hypocrite I am right now, running home to luxury when I need to, because I can. Nothing you say is going to make me magically okay with all this.’ 

Goldie sighed. She didn’t understand her daughter’s aversion to the one thing she and Scrooge loved almost as much as each other, but she acknowledged it at least. After two years without Dawson, she couldn’t not. She was determined to find a way through for their odd little family. ‘Honey, there are ways to work this situation to your advantage, you know.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ Dawson frowned, not following. 

‘Look, your father is the most miserly tightwad the world has ever known, but there’s one thing he’s never been able to resist...’ 

Dawson side eyed her mother. ‘This better not be gross.’ 

‘These  _eyes_ , Dawson.’ Goldie laughed, pointing at her own emerald gems. ‘In my head they’ve accomplished rather a lot. In yours, well, you could ask for the moon on a stick and he’d build a rocket and go up there and get it for you.’

‘The thing I want is for him to use his money for good things, not just sit on it like a fairytale dragon hoarding treasure. That’s the one thing he’ll never do.’ Dawson admitted, her shoulders slumping. This was the closest she and her mother had ever come to having an actual conversation on the matter. 

‘Not entirely, but if you ask him for money, he’ll give it to  you .’ Goldie remarked.

‘How does that change anything?’

‘You want your Daddy to redistribute his wealth?’ Goldie couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. ‘Well he’s never going to, not beyond his own family. But he’ll give it to  you , if you ask him, and what you do with it when you have it is up to you.’ 

That shut Dawson up. She opened her mouth to argue further, but she couldn’t find the words. Goldie was right. All she’d been doing, all these years, was complaining and arguing and sulking, but she’d never actually done anything. Except run away. And look where that had gotten her.

‘And... what should I do with it?’ She asked, eventually, the cogs of her brain whirring away. 

Goldie rolled her eyes. ‘Hell if I know. Something noble, I’m sure. Now, we’ve got about another hour before we need to head back - and there’s one more little luxury I’m going to ask you to make time for.’

Dawson groaned. ‘Oh no, what now?’ 

Goldie grinned, and pointed across the street to the ice cream parlour. Dawson’s eyes widened and her mouth watered. Well, if she was going to be a hypocrite, she might as well eat ice cream while doing it. 

Goldie grabbed her daughter’s hand and dragged her across the street, and despite their topic of conversation, Dawson honestly couldn’t remember a moment in their lives when they’d had so much fun. 

 

 

When they arrived back home, Goldie stayed by the car while Duckworth unloaded it and Dawson headed straight inside, in search of the egg she found she missed with a strange kind of ache, one where she didn’t quite know what it was that she missed quite yet, just that she missed it. 

She headed up to her room, but when she opened the door all she saw was an empty bassinest. Panic suddenly gripped in her chest, and she forced herself to remain calm. She headed down the hall and checked the in-progress nursery, to no avail. She checked her parents room, the living room, the kitchen... nothing. Just as she was about to start tearing out feathers, she heard a sound coming from her father’s office. A sort of pleasant rumbling, that echoed through the entrance hall. Without further ado, she set off after the source.

Dawson opened the door to Scrooge’s office and an unnatural sight. There, silhouetted in the window, was her emotional cripple of a father, holding her unhatched egg in his arms like it was an actual baby, rocking it back and forth in the warm sunlight.

Her father’s soft Scottish brogue washed over her, and suddenly Dawson found herself transported back to her own childhood. Exactly when, she couldn’t say, but she remembered this voice. His storytelling voice. 

‘That nefarious nincompoop Rockerduck was getting away, and he was taking the Gumption Gold with him!’ Scrooge was in the throes of his tall tale, and he hadn’t noticed Dawson arrive. ‘But your grandmother and I caught up to the train, and while she distracted him I snuck into the carriage to reclaim the nugget.’ 

Dawson stepped silently into the room, shutting the door behind her. She couldn’t help but listen, as captivated as she imagined her unhatched duckling must be by the tale.

‘...we leapt from the carriage a moment too late, and the wooden wheel man lost control, sending Goldie and I tumbling alongside the tumbleweeds, and the nugget crashed into the bridge and exploded, sending tiny nuggets of gold all the way down into Gumption Gorge.’ 

‘No!’ Dawson gasped, and then clasped her hands over her beak. She hadn’t meant to make a sound. Scrooge jumped, and twisted around, keeping a firm grip on the egg. 

‘Bless me bagpipes, Dawson! How long have ye been standing there?’ He exclaimed, his cheeks colouring slightly at being caught in full Grandpa mode. 

‘Not long,’ Dawson assured him. ‘But you have to finish the story. What happened then?’ 

Scrooge hesitated. ‘You don’t remember? I told you this tale often enough when you were a wee one.’ 

Dawson shook her head. ‘No, sorry. But I’d like to hear it now.’ 

‘Well then,’ Scrooge grinned, clearing his throat exaggeratively and resettling the egg in the crook of his arm. ‘Goldie and I headed back to town. We’d lost the gold, but we’d saved the town... and that was the most important thing. Apparently.’ Scrooge sniffed, and Dawson rolled her eyes. ‘But suddenly, the towns people were all running past us, heading for the river. You see, Gumption Gorge flowed right back into town, and the riverbed was scattered with gold! Now, your grandmother managed to get a head start -‘

‘How?’ Dawson asked, suddenly. 

‘Hmm?’

‘How did mom get a head start? You were headed back to town together.’ 

‘Ah, well. She hit me in the face with a pan and ran after the gold herself.’ Dawson stared and Scrooge shrugged, a fond smile on his face. ‘Don’t worry, I soon caught up with her.’ Then his expression changed again, and his face flushed bright red.

‘Alright! I don’t need to know about that part,’ Dawson said quickly. ‘Skip forward a few days please.’ 

Scrooge chuckled. ‘Well, Goldie made off with a fair amount of the gold when she could, while I stayed behind and started a gold panning business. A much more profitable venture in the long run, of course, but there you are. Goldie never was one for patience. And... I think we ought to leave it there, until next time. I’ll tell the tale again when this little one has hatched.’

He went to hand the egg over to Dawson, who took it gratefully, noting both the care and relative ease he took to do so. She had always assumed he hadn’t gotten involved very much with her when she’d been a baby, but now she wasn’t so sure. She remembered him telling her stories, sure, but everything else was a bit of a blur. 

‘Thanks for looking after her Daddy,’ she said, kissing him on the cheek. Scrooge smiled soppily, and brushed off her affection. 

‘Och, ‘twas nae bother,’ he said. ‘I eh, I brought in another of your old bassinests, this one used to sit in here,’ he explained, tapping on the mahogany frame that matched his desk perfectly. ‘Your wee McDuck will be safe enough, if ever you want to go off with your mother again.’ 

‘I’ve had enough shopping with mom to last me a lifetime, but I’ll keep it in mind,’ Dawson promised. She looked at the bassinest thoughtfully for a moment, and then carefully placed the egg inside. It was a perfect fit. 

‘Daddy...’ she started carefully, not quite looking at him. ‘Can I... talk to you about something?’

Scrooge immediately bristled. ‘What’s wrong? Did you and your mother have a fight?’

Dawson caught herself before her temper did. It wasn’t an unfair assumption to make. She and her mother fought more often than they got along, it was sort of their thing. 

‘No, everything’s fine. Shopping was... intense. But it’s fine.’ Dawson assured him. ‘But... maybe we could sit down for a minute?’ 

Scrooge didn’t come off high alert. He moved to his desk and sat down, but Dawson noted how his back was straight and his movements stiff. He was bracing himself. 

She sighed, and sat in the chair opposite him, awkwardly. ‘I don’t want to lie to you Daddy,’ she began, figuring she might as well go straight to it. ‘It was really hard for me to come back here.’

‘Look, Dawson, I know you and your mother have always had a complicated -‘ Scrooge started, but Dawson cut him off.

‘It’s not just mom.’

‘Oh.’

‘I love you Daddy, you know I do. But I just... I can’t... I don’t agree with so much of what you do. I’m sorry, I just don’t. There are so many people suffering in the world and here we are just nesting on a mountain of gold. It’s not fair.’

Scrooge’s face turned red again, now for an entirely different reason. ‘Not fair?’ He repeated. ‘I came from nothing, Dawson. Your grandparents, my mother and father, didn’t have two pennies between them to rub together. I had to make my own way, and I earned every cent.’

‘I know you did.’ Dawson desperately wanted to avoid an argument, but she couldn’t stop herself. She had to try, she had to get this out. ‘But do you really need to just sit on it? All of it? We’ve got more gold that we could ever need.’

‘You might think that now, but you have no idea what can happen. My family lost their fortune once, and I’ll not have it happen again! I’ll not have my descendants curse the name McDuck the way my father does our ancestors for losing Dismal Downs and leaving our clan penniless. That money is your future, Dawson. Your unhatched bairn’s future and all those who come after him.’

‘You made that money fair and square, but I didn’t.It’s not right for me to rely on you like this.’

‘I’m not ever going to apologise for providing for my family. You were born into a life of privilege Dawson, and it’s significantly better than being born into a life of poverty, believe me. I won’t let you blame me for that.’ Scrooge seethed, dangerously.

‘But I’m grown now.’ Dawson reasoned, struggling to find the words for what she was feeling within herself. ‘You taught me the meaning of an honest day’s work.’

‘Aye, clearly a little too well.’ Scrooge grumbled. ‘Not that you’ve done much with that meaning so far.’ 

Dawson winced. But she couldn’t deny it. She hadn’t run away and gotten a job and made her own fortune, she’d run away and gotten high in a hippie van and made a baby. She wasn’t a saint. She was an idiot. 

‘I know all that. Believe me, I know. So you can see why I might find it difficult to accept that I have no other option than to rely on my parents’ charity, now?’ She pleaded, her eyes desperate and wide. Scrooge realised then what a disservice he’d done his daughter in never having this conversation when she’d tried in the past. Of course she rebelled against him, if he wasn’t willing to get into a debate. And of course she’d taken all that out on Goldie, because for some stupid reason, she still held her father in some kind of ridiculous regard, despite everything. 

‘You have all the options you could ever want for,’ Scrooge said, at last. ‘I know you wish you didn’t.’ 

‘I don’t,’ Dawson said suddenly. At Scrooge’s confused frown, she clarified. ‘I don’t wish I didn’t. Daddy, I’m so lucky that you and mom were here for me and that you’re helping me now. I’m so grateful. I don’t know what I’d have done in my situation if I hadn’t had a home like this to run back to. If I didn’t have parents like you and Mom.But there are some girls out there who don’t. Lots, actually.’ 

Scrooge sighed. ‘I can’t fix the world, Dawson. That’s not who I am.’ The admission was one they both knew, but it cost a lot to both of them to hear it out loud and accept it for the truth is was. 

‘I know it isn’t. But... Maybe it’s who _I_ am. I know I could do something. If I just...’ Dawson paused as the cogs turning in her brain and finally everything settled into place. A fire kindled in her chest. 

‘I realise how hypocritical this is,’ she laughed, bitterly. ‘Me, asking for money. But I’m about to be a single mother, and I don’t have any money of my own.’

‘You don’t need to ask. Of course I’ll take care of everything you need. Your child will want for nothing, I promise you that.’ Scrooge said seriously, but Dawson shook her head.

‘I know. I know that. That’s not what I’m asking for. I’m asking if you would consider... an investment.’ 

‘Wait - what?’ 

‘I know I can’t do anything right now. I’m going to do my best to be a good mom to this little McNugget. But when she’s older... I want to work. I want to do something that makes a difference.’ Dawson’s face was alight with determination, and there was a fire in her eyes Scrooge recognise. He’d seen it in his wife’s green eyes, and it never led to anything good. 

‘Whatever it is you set your mind to, I’m sure you’ll do great things,’ he said, supportively. ‘And of course, I’ll help where I can, but what does any of thins have to do with an investment?’

‘I want to help women like me. Well, not like me. People who aren’t lucky like me. New mothers, who are on their own. Who need help. Well, I could do some good in the world.’

‘You want to start...’ Scrooge swallowed heavily, ‘a  _charity?_ ’

‘I guess. Or a centre... I don’t know. I need to think about it. But yes.’ 

‘And you want me to pay for it.’ Scrooge surmised.

Dawson grinned. ‘Yes, please. Just to start it off.’

Scrooge stared at her for a long moment. Then he opened his pad and started scribbling sums.

‘You’d need an initial investment, premises, a small staff, publicity budget and whatnot. And you would pay yourself a wage, of course. Something modest in sure, knowing you, but enough to set yourself up in an apartment in town.’ He caught her eye at that moment and she squirmed, a little uncomfortably. Scrooge rolled his eyes. ‘I know you don’t want to live in the mansion forever, Dawson. I don’t want to push you away, not again. This way, you won’t be far. And only when the babe is old enough that you don’t need so much help yourself.’ 

Dawson breathed a heavy sigh of relief. ‘And the money would be from you? Not from mom.’ She had to clarify. 

Scrooge shrugged. ‘Technically what’s mine is hers, and all that.’

‘Technically. But I mean, it’s your money. Earned fair and square. Not anything that Mom...’ she trailed off awkwardly, and Scrooge realised what she meant. 

‘My money. Nothing stolen, I promise. I generally let your mother keep all that to herself.’ 

Dawson’s face split into an enormous grin, and she launched herself across the desk to throw her arms around Scrooge’s neck.

‘Thank you Daddy,’ she said, sincerely. Scrooge hugged her back tightly, and the two stayed like that for a moment until the bassinest beside them jiggled and a kick echoed from inside the egg that Dawson was surprised didn’t crack the shell. 

‘Looks like junior’s pleased too,’ Scrooge chuckled, as Dawson unlatched herself from him and hurried to check the egg over. 

‘Okay, I think that’s enough excitement for one day. I’m going to take this little bruiser up to bed for a nap.’ She said, picking it up carefully and holding it as she’d seen Scrooge do not long before. ‘I’ll see you later Daddy. Love you.’ 

Scrooge didn’t have time to react or reply, before Dawson tore out into the hallway. She passed Goldie on the way, who had been searching for them herself. As Dawson hurtled by, she paused and grabbed her mother, kissing her on the cheek. 

‘Hi mom! Love you mom!’ She called in her wake.

‘Love you too sweetie,’ Goldie answered, though she needn’t have bothered. The whirlwind had passed before she could hear. Goldie shook her head and continued to Scrooge’s office, where she found her husband still sat at his desk, looking dazed and a little perturbed.

‘Well, she certainly looks pleased with herself,’ Goldie commented. Scrooge just grunted in response.

‘Oh dear, I know that face. That’s your cheque book face.’ Goldie realised, crossing the room quickly to perch on the edge of his desk. ‘Shall I kiss it better, Scroogey poo?’ She teased. 

‘Don’t think I don’t know you had something to do with that.’ Scrooge grumbled, but he hooked his hand behind her and pulled her closer to him anyway, his pencil and pad forgotten. 

Goldie settled her feet on the edge of his chair and shuffled along further so that she was properly in front of him, and took his wandering hands in hers. Scrooge looked up at her.

‘She wants to start a charity. A centre or something. Somewhere for young women to go, when they can’t go home like she did.’

Goldie’s eyebrows flew up into her hairline. ‘Wow. That’s... not where I thought it was going to go. That’s kind of amazing.’

‘I know.’ Scrooge shook his head in disbelief. ‘How did that girl come from us?’ 

‘Alchemy,’ Goldie chuckled, running a finger across his beak. ‘The perfect chemical reaction.’ Then she grew more serious. ‘You did good, Moneybags. You kept her with us.’

‘I hope so,’ Scrooge sighed. Then he turned his attention back to his wife, and what she was wearing. ‘Is that new?’ He asked, taking the sunny yellow fabric between his fingers. Goldie grinned. 

‘No, but Dawson reminded me I had it. I’d forgotten, until I picked out a matching one for the little one.’

Scrooge sat back, gazing appreciatively at his wife in her perfectly tailored sundress. 

‘I always loved you in yellow,’ he mused, absently. 

‘Oh, I know.’ Goldie grinned, shifting and sliding off the desk so that she landed comfortably in his lap. ‘Why do you think I locked the door behind me?’ 

Scrooge eyes widened, and then he grinned too, and set about reacquainting himself with the many layered underskirts of this particular outfit for the rest of the afternoon while Dawson and her babe napped safely out of ear shot. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think you ready for this... fluff.

Another week passed, which the family mainly spent on setting up the new nursery. At first, Dawson had thought decorating a whole other room, when her old nursery was simply gathering dust, was an unnecessary expense, but Scrooge wouldn’t hear of it. A tree had grown, blocking out the best of the natural light, and besides it was too far from Dawson’s bedroom. Dawson reasoned the new room wasn’t much closer, and was about to object when a sharp look from her father had stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t miss the way Scrooge’s eyes followed Goldie as she busied herself carrying all of the newly bought baby things down the corridor to the new nursery. Dawson was suddenly struck by the fact that she’d never seen her mother set foot in that room once in her adult life. She’d understood when they had been fighting tooth and nail, every day, but now... it didn’t make sense. 

Dawson didn’t push the issue further, but she noticed. And that seemed to be enough. 

Day twenty seven began as so many others had. Duckworth’s chocolate chip pancakes, and her parents grumbling at each other until they were caffeinated at which point they switched to making heart eyes at each other which they tended to do for most of the day. 

Dawson excused herself from the breakfast table around the time that her parents started playing footsie under the table, and headed upstairs to check on the egg before turning her attention back to the nearly new nursery. 

She knew something was different the moment she walked in. Her eyes shot to the bassinest, where the egg lay nestled in a cocoon of soft knitted blankets. Sunlight streamed in through the window and a particularly sunny beam highlighted a very definite crack in the egg’s previously perfect surface. Dawson froze, and in the silence, she could hear the telltale tap tap tapping of a tiny beak against brittle shell. 

It was happening. 

It was  _early._

Without further ado, Dawson ran from the room, down the hall, and hung over the banister of the main staircase, hollering with everything she had. 

‘MOM!’ 

 

 

True to form, Scrooge and Goldie had taken full advantage of their daughter’s absence from the dining room and were locked in a passionate embrace when Dawson’s panicked cry echoed through the mansion. 

They broke apart instantly, eyes wide. 

‘Another false alarm?’ Scrooge asked, hopefully.

‘I don’t think so,’ Goldie said, climbing off him and brushing her skirts down briskly. ‘Come on Moneybags, time to meet our grandbaby.’ 

Scrooge stared back at her, dazed by the prospect, and she laughed as she took his hand and dragged him to his feet. He didn’t let go as they ran down the hall and up the stairs, toward their daughter’s room. 

 

 

‘It’s happening!’ Dawson squeaked when her parents appeared in the doorway. ‘What do I do?!’ 

Goldie dropped her husband’s hand and took Dawson’s instead. Her daughter’s grip was strong and she winced as her bones ground together. The fear was evident in Dawson’s eyes. Goldie glanced at the egg, which sure enough was cracked and rocking from side to side as their little McDuck fought their way to the outside world.

‘You don’t do anything right now honey, this takes a while,’ Goldie assured her. ‘I’ll have Duckworth bring up some hot towels, but honestly it could be hours. Best thing to do is let the little one get on with it.’ 

‘It’s too early,’ Dawson said. ‘It’s only day twenty seven, that’s even earlier than me!’ 

‘You McDucklings and your hard heads... she’ll be fine sweetheart. Just stay calm, and be patient, and watch a miracle happen.’

Dawson nodded, unable to speak. Her eyes remained fixed on the egg. Goldie glanced at Scrooge and gestured for him to take over, which he did so willingly, wrapping a stabilising arm around his girl’s shoulders and taking her hand in his when Goldie let go. 

‘I’m going to find Duckworth,’ she murmured to him. 

‘Hurry back,’ Scrooge said, leaning to kiss her quickly. ‘You don’t want to miss this.’ 

‘I don’t want to miss any of it,’ Goldie assured him. And she really didn’t. Not again. Never again. 

 

 

Hours passed. Duckworth came and went with fresh supplies, but the littlest McDuck was taking their sweet time. The family didn’t mind though, Dawson watched the whole thing, enraptured, while Scrooge and Goldie sat on her bed, watching her. 

Suddenly there was another crack, louder than the rest. Dawson squealed softly. 

‘I can see her face! Oh my god...’

Scrooge reflexively went to get to his feet but Goldie stopped him, and nudged Dawson forward instead. ‘Go on momma, you’re going to want to be the first person she lays eyes on. Otherwise she’ll be following your Daddy to work in the morning.’ 

Dawson cautiously approached the bassinest, and a few taps later, a bright beak finally burst through the shell, quickly followed by a pair of bright green, blinking eyes. 

Dawson’s own eyes filled with tears. ‘There she is!’ She whispered, gasping as the rest of the shell started to break away and the tiny yellow duckling struggled her way out into the world. There came a pause as the baby caught it’s breath, and in that moment it looked up at the three ducks gathered around the bassinest and let out a happy little squeak, and in that moment their hearts were lost forever. 

‘Oh wow,’ Dawson breathed, while Goldie busied herself unfolding the fresh warm towels Duckworth had just brought them, and quickly handing them to Dawson.

‘Come on then, just like your pamphlet taught you. Bundle her up and dry her off, and then we can see how beautiful she really is.’ 

‘She?’ Scrooge raised an eyebrow, unwilling to admit defeat until provided firm evidence. Goldie laughed, took a perfunctory glance and then grinned. ‘She  _is_   a girl! You owe me twenty dollars, Sourdough.’ 

Scrooge grumbled, but paid up, swatting his wife on the rear as he did so. She wiggled her tail feathers in response and Scrooge found he couldn’t stay grumpy for long. 

‘You guys bet on my baby?’ Dawson frowned, leaning down to break away the few final pieces of egg and help the little thing out into the comfort of her waiting cocoon of warm, fluffy towels and her mother’s arms. The baby positively cheeped with happiness and Dawson’s heart melted all over again. 

‘Of course we did.’ Goldie replied, without a hint of shame. 

Dawson rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling. She didn’t think she would ever stop smiling. ‘Of course you did.’ She turned her attention back to the baby, who looked up in wide eyed wonder at every sound that came out of her mother’s mouth. ‘Of course they did, they bet on everything your grandparents, because they’re stubborn and old and stupidly competitive... and they really need some therapy. Isn’t that right my little Dickie bird?  _Yes it is!_ ’ 

‘Oi,’ Scrooge objected, but Goldie just laughed. Dawson was the absolute picture of happiness, standing in the middle of the room with a bundle of pure joy in her arms, hypnotised and utterly in love. 

‘It’s a good job she is a girl, considering you spent half our annual profits on her wardrobe,’ Scrooge said, finding the bright side in his defeat. Goldie rolled her eyes. 

‘Oh please, I swiped the doctor’s chart when we went in for the scan.’

‘What? You’ve known she was a girl all along?’

‘It was necessary, for shopping purposes!’ Goldie defended, and she quickly snatched the $20 bill out of his reach and stuffed it down her sweater, hiding it somewhere in her bra so he couldn’t take it back. 

‘If you think that’s going to stop me...’ 

Goldie grinned, her eyes glinting. ‘Scroogey, please, not in front of the grandchild.’ 

‘Or the grandchild’s mother,’ Dawson added, sternly. ‘Can we have one wholesome family moment without you two tearing each other’s clothes off? It’s exhausting.’

‘Sorry sweetheart, it’s your father’s fault he can’t resist me. I really don’t encourage it,’ Goldie grinned, stepping away from Scrooge and moving instead to Dawson’s side. ‘Now let me get a proper look at this little angel. Oh my  goodness .’ Goldie leaned into Dawson’s shoulder and grinned at the babbling babe. ‘Hello little one, I’m your... mother’s... slightly older sister.’ 

‘Mom,’ Dawson rolled her eyes. Scrooge joined them then, on Dawson’s other side, for his own inspection of the newest McDuck. 

‘Hello there lass,’ Scrooge said, his voice gruffer then usual as he tried to keep his emotions in check. At the sight of her grandfather, the little one fought to free her arms from the swaddle and reached up with tiny clasping fists. 

‘I think she wants a proper hello,’ Dawson chuckled, shifting the bundle in her arms and offering it to her father. ‘Here, you take her.’ 

Scrooge took the baby happily, falling back into the habit as easily as though Dawson were still a child herself. It was like no time had passed at all. 

Goldie’s heart swelled seeing her husband with a baby in his arms again. He was a man who had been forever destined to be a grandfather.

‘What are you going to name her?’ He asked, without taking his eyes off the gurgling girl in his arms. 

‘I just said. Dickie, her name is Dickie.’ 

Scrooge raised an eyebrow, and tore his attention away from his granddaughter for just a moment. ‘Erm... you don’t want something a little more... traditional? What about a good strong family name? Something Scottish.’ 

‘Or Irish,’ Goldie added, quickly. 

Dawson frowned. ‘What’s wrong with Dickie?’

‘Well...’ Scrooge trailed off and looked to Goldie for help. She provided, in her way. 

‘That depends. Are you intentionally naming her after the penis that impregnated you?’

‘Goldie!’ Scrooge spluttered, covering baby Dickie’s ears with his hands. 

‘What? We were both thinking it.’

Scrooge screwed his eyes shut. ‘Now I can’t think of anything else.’

Dawson scoffed. ‘I like Dickie. It’s cute. She’s so little, she’s a little Dickie bird.’

‘You know she’s not going to stay little. What if she ends up six feet tall?’ Goldie reasoned. 

‘Then she’ll be a tall Dickie bird.’

‘Dawson...’

‘Mom, you named me after a mining town. You don’t get to be judgy about this.’

‘She does have a point there.’ Scrooge relented. 

Goldie glared. ‘Who’s side are you on?’

At that moment, the baby in question finally got a firm hold on her grandfather’s whiskers and tugged, surprisingly hard. Scrooge yelped, and she giggled, and he was immediately wrapped around her little finger for all eternity.

‘Dickie’s.’ He answered. ‘I’m on Dickie’s side.’

‘Why do I get the feeling that’s going to become a thing?’ Goldie grumbled, but there was no venom to it really. 

‘There we go, Dickie darlin,’ Scrooge bounced the scrawny little bundle in his arms. ‘Don’t mind your mother and your grandmother over there, they’ll be arguing about this and everything else until the day you graduate college.’

‘If she goes to college.’ Goldie interjected. 

Scrooge just glared. ‘She’s going to college.’

‘Alright grandparents, I think that’s quite enough,’ Dawson interjected. ‘She’s not even an hour old, maybe let her learn to talk before you start planning out her life, hmm?’ 

Her tone was light, but there was an undertone to her words that her parents didn’t miss. 

‘You’re quite right,’ Scrooge said, sincerely. A glance at his pocket watch told him it was well past lunchtime. ‘Here, you take Dickie back and we’ll leave you be for a little while hmm? Duckworth can prepare a late lunch and we can set about getting that nursery finished.’

Goldie agreed wholeheartedly, taking Scrooge’s proffered hand in hers. 

‘You’re going to go and make out aren’t you?’ Dawson narrowed her eyes. Scrooge spluttered incoherently and Goldie didn’t deny it. 

‘Oh, give us this one,’ she said. ‘Our little miracle just gave us another little miracle. Your father just fulfilled his lifelong destiny of becoming a cranky old grandpa with a heart of gold. There’s plenty to celebrate.’ 

Dawson rolled her eyes. ‘Alright, alright. But if I hear anything unsavoury we’re moving to the garage.’ 

Goldie chuckled and tugged on Scrooge’s hand, dragging the dazed old man behind her and out into the hall. 

‘Sweet that she thinks we’ve never done it in the garage,’ Goldie commented under her breath as she went. 

‘I heard that!’ Dawson called after them, but she wasn’t really bothered. She wasn’t really bothered with anything, save for the tiny bundle of yellow feathers in her arms. Her little Dickie bird. 

 

 

Later that evening, Goldie slipped into Dawson’s room and found her daughter on the verge of sleep, teetering on the edge of the armchair she’d placed beside the bassinest so she could watch her own baby sleep. 

‘Dawson, sweetheart,’ Goldie said softly, waking her gently. ‘It’s time for bed love, sleep when the baby sleeps and all that.’ 

‘Hmm?’ Dawson yawned and stretched. ‘Oh wow, Iwas just watching her. I must have drifted off.’ 

‘She’s pretty hypnotising, I’ll give you that,’ Goldie chuckled, helping her daughter to her feet. ‘Here, I’ll help you move this closer to your bed so you can still see her.’

As Goldie went to take hold of one side of the bassinest, Dawson noticed she was holding something in her hand. 

‘What’s that?’ She asked. Goldie hesitated, and then after a moment of what looked to be a brief internal struggle, she held out the small, very old, very tattered teddy bear. 

‘This is... well, this is Blackjack. He was mine when I was a little girl myself. My papa won him in a card game, of all things, and brought him home for me. It’s the only thing I have from him - well, the only thing I have from home at all. I didn’t have a happy childhood Dawson, but this... this little guy was with me through all of it and even though he’s a little beaten up and threadbare, he’s still here. When you were really little I gave him to you, and you cuddled up with him every night. You loved him, though you may not remember.’ She smiled at a sudden memory. ‘I took him back when your McDuck side started showing and you started teething, you got a little destructive. Blackjack’s left ear has never been the same.’

‘Mom...’ Dawson stared at the bear, a strange look on her face. Goldie suddenly looked extremely uncharacteristically self conscious. 

‘I know we bought a mountain of teddy bears last week, and they’re probably all a hundred times fuzzier and cuter than this old thing.’ She said quickly, not meeting Dawson’s eyes. ‘But, I just wanted you to have the option. He can just sit on a shelf or something, if you don’t want Dickie to have him.’ 

‘Mom, stop.’ Dawson caught her mother’s hand and carefully took the tattered old bear from her. Goldie looked up at her daughter, who seemed to have matured by several decades in the past few hours. Something unspoken passed between them, and Dawson looked down at Blackjack and smiled. 

‘I remember him now,’ she said, quietly. ‘I remember him, and I remember Daddy telling me stories, and you singing me songs. I don’t know how I forgot all that.’ 

‘You grew up, that’s all,’ Goldie said with a sad smile. ‘Growing up is hard. It’s distracting.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ Dawson agreed. ‘But it’s not going to be for this one.’ She nodded at Dickie, still sleeping soundly in her crib. ‘She’s got a mom who loves her, and the best grandparents a kid could ever have. And now she’s got Blackjack to keep her safe too.’ 

Dawson leant down and nestled the bear beside Dickie, who immediately rolled over to the side and clutched at Blackjack’s patchy fur with her tiny fingers. His tufty ear tickled her beak and she sneezed, but she didn’t wake up. She was perfect. 

‘Thanks Mom,’ Dawson whispered, and in that moment Goldie knew she wasn’t just talking about the bear. 

‘You’re welcome, sweetheart.’ 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little epilogue to tie things up...

A year went by in the blink of an eye, much to Goldie and Scrooge’s surprise. Dawson’s first year had seemed eternal, but Dickie’s was nearly done and they’d barely realised time was passing at all. 

A chatterbox from an early age, Dickie had been babbling away since she was only a few months old, which was a mixture of adorable and infuriating in Dawson’s humble opinion. But now, finally, her little Dickie bird was starting to figure out what words actually were. It was both a blessing and a curse. 

‘Mama!’ Dickie cried, performing willingly for her attentive audience. Dawson cheered and Dickie joined in, while Goldie just rolled her eyes. 

‘Alright, alright, that’s hardly a new one. She figured that one out when she realised you were the one with the food.’

Dawson ignored her mother. ‘Now sweetie, can you say _Grandma?_ ’ She prompted, with an evil grin. 

‘Wait - what?  _Dawson_.’ Goldie sat up to attention, her eyes flashing dangerously. There were certain words that would have no place in young Dickie’s vocabulary, if Goldie O’Gilt had anything to do with it. 

‘Ga-ma!’ Goldie turned slightly green at the sound of those syllables in Dickie’s happy little cheep. 

‘Incorrect.’ She said, sternly. ‘Sorry Dickie, you misheard your mother. My name is GOLDIE. You may have a Grandma somewhere out there but you’ll probably never meet her because your mother can’t remember who your father is to tell him you exist.’

‘Mom!’ Dawson flushed bright red, and Dickie giggled. Goldie ignored them both, focussing in the task at hand. 

‘Dickie, say Goldie.  Gol-deeeee.’ 

‘Dol-dee!’ Dickie trilled, joyously. Goldie sighed. 

‘Close kiddo, but no cigar.  _Goldie_. With a  _gee_.’

‘Mom, she doesn’t know what letters are.’ Dawson reminded her in quiet exasperation. 

‘Gee!’ Dickie cried, clearly liking the sound of that particular syllable. ‘Gee gee gee gee geeeee!’

‘See?’ Dawson chuckled, while Goldie just shook her head. 

‘ _Goldie_ ,’ she repeated. 

‘Gee gee!’ Dickie replied.

Dawson laughed as Goldie slapped her hand to her forehead, and Dickie giggled uncontrollably at her grandmother’s antics. 

‘I think Gigi is the closest you’re going to get.’ Dawson remarked, picking up the gleeful toddler and bouncing her in her arms. Dickie squealed and laughed even harder. 

Goldie sighed. ‘You know what, I don’t hate it. And besides, it could be worse.’ 

At that moment, Scrooge came in, his face lighting up at the sight of his three favourite girls. Dickie spotted him first and stuck out her tiny, sticky hands. 

‘Gampa Spooooooge!’ She cried. Goldie snorted as Scrooge winced at the moniker. 

‘Hello, Dickie darlin,’ he chuckled, ruffling her feathers and her tufty yellow hair with great affection.

‘You were gone a while,’ Goldie remarked when he came to join her by the window. Dawson was twirling a squealing Dickie around the room. Scrooge just grunted, a mildly irritated response. Goldie frowned. ‘Still no sign?’

‘Nothing, not a trace.’ He said, shaking his head. ‘No word from Naples either.’

‘Well, that’s good then isn’t it? Leave well enough alone.’ 

‘Aye, that’s what I said to Hortense.’ His words were certain, but something in his eyes said otherwise. Goldie’s eyes narrowed as she regarded her husband. 

‘Scrooge, are you worried?’ She asked, directly. Scrooge raised an eyebrow and scoffed. 

‘Of course not. Worried? About Magica? She’s mad, but she’s manageable. Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.’

‘Alright,’ Goldie relented, but she didn’t sound convinced. 

‘What are you guys talking about?’ Dawson piped up from across the room, where she was trying to encourage Dickie to stand on her own. Dawson was pretty certain she could, as she frequently turned her back for half a second and turned back to find her daughter somehow across the other side of the room, but Dickie seemed to much prefer wobbling around for a few seconds before falling down on her fluffy, diaper clad butt than actually proving it. 

‘Nothing important,’ Scrooge said dismissively, plastering a carefree smile on his face. ‘Now, aren’t we supposed to be on our way to view some modest and affordable office spaces?’ 

Dawson gasped, looking at her watch. ‘Wow, I didn’t realise the time. We have to get going! Mom, are you sure you’re okay to watch her this afternoon?’ 

Goldie pretended to consider. ‘I mean, I’ll have to reschedule a heist but if you promise to be back by four I’m pretty sure I can fit both in before supper.’ 

Dawson sighed, never quite sure how serious Goldie’s jibes were. Best to claim plausible deniability at any rate. So she promptly ignored her mother and spoke directly to the baby. 

‘Dickie baby, momma and Grandpa are going out. You’re going to stay with Gigi, isn’t that fun?’ Dawson said, lifting her daughter up again. 

‘Gee gee!’ Dickie cried, as she soared through the air. Dawson hugged her close while the almost-one year old babbled away. 

‘Gigi?’ Scrooge repeated, nudging Goldie with a hint of a grin. ‘That’s a new one.’ 

‘Can it,  _Spooge_ ,’ Goldie shot back, and laughed at the way his face contorted. ‘I happen to like being Gigi. She’s fabulous.’ She leaned in to kiss him quickly on the cheek, which he quickly deflected and pulled her in for a proper kiss instead. 

‘Ewwwwwww!’ Dickie squealed, positively delighted. Scrooge chuckled and kissed his wife once more, before finally relinquishing her from his grasp and turning his attention back to business. 

‘You be good for your grandmother,’ he said seriously to Dickie, who just beamed at him from her crib where Dawson had just set her down. ‘And you,’ he turned back to Goldie. ‘You be good too.’ 

Goldie blinked, the picture of innocence. 

‘Aren’t I always?’ 

‘Don’t answer that,’ Dawson interjected sternly, shrugging into her jacket and slinging her bag over her shoulder. She kissed Dickie quickly on the forehead and then went to hug her mother tightly. 

‘Love you Mom,’ she said, sincerely. 

‘I love you too sweetheart. Don’t let your Daddy scrimp on you now.’ Goldie added under her breath. 

‘I won’t,’ Dawson grinned. ‘I promise.’ 

‘That’s my girl.’

Goldie waved them off on their way, and waited until she heard their footsteps echo down the stairs before shutting the door and turning to Dickie, her hands on her hips. 

‘Now, my little Dickie duckling, the boring old grown ups are off to boring old work. What shall we do?’ 

‘’Venture!’ Dickie cried at once, her little fists punching the air. 

Goldie grinned. Sure, the kid couldn’t get her name right but she at least had her priorities straight when it came to first words. 

‘Well, if you insist,’ she said, scooping Dickie up into the air and twirling her across the nursery toward the hall, and whatever wonders awaited them. ‘A little adventure, just the two of us, hmm? And now that you’re getting around this whole ‘talking’ thing, I think we’re going to have to lay some ground rules. The first one is very important. Whatever you do,  _don’t tell your momma_...’

‘Mama!’ 

‘Exactly. And better not tell your Grandpa Scrooge either.’ 

‘Spooge!’ Dickie corrected, with great enthusiasm. 

‘Sorry, yes. Grandpa _Spooge_. How silly of me.’ 

Dickie giggled merrily and tugged at Goldie’s hair. ‘Gee gee!’ She chanted, over and over again. The sound sent ripples of joy through Goldie’s heart, melting any last bit of lingering Klondike ice away to nothingness.

‘That’s me kiddo,’ Goldie said warmly. ‘I’ll always be your Gigi. Now, let’s go find ourselves an adventure.’ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap! I had to throw in a little bit of Magica there to remind us all what’s coming. Sorry. 
> 
> This was a cute headcanon that got out of control, but I really enjoyed writing it! It’s been great discovering more of Dawson-verse Scroldie, of Dawson herself and the world our Dickie hails from. It’s nice here, I’m almost sorry I destroyed it all with shadows and fire. Almost. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and especially everyone who comments - you guys are what get me out of bed in the morning. 
> 
> More anon but for now, adieu!


End file.
